In The Winter
by Little Obsessions
Summary: C&J, joint venture betweed crtjester and Little Obsessions. It's a how they got together story. Enjoy! rated M to be safe, not really that bad.
1. Chapter 1

The fire cracked gently in the sooty hearth, making the silence in the room just a little more bearable. Rupert sat across from her drawing on his cigar, signing the last of the commissioners papers with his gold pen. He looked tired, but determined to enjoy the festivities that were looming before them. The already prominent wrinkles around his eyes screwed up as he read something, rubbing his forehead in puzzlement. She smiled a little at him, taking in his appearance. His once coal black hair was flecked with grey now, softening his terribly hard features. He was older and in all honesty it never had really affected her, but now it was becoming apparent. He was approaching forty five, she had only left her twenties. He looked up, registering her scrutiny of him. She looked down, back to the proposal for more money for the tourist board.

"Are you sure you don't want to come to the lodge?" she questioned, in a desperate attempt to dispel the silence.

"No, my dear, I'm sure." Rupert smiled, looking over the rim of his glasses. She sighed, this was the last time she'd ask. It wasn't vital that he spent Christmas with her, it was more for the benefit of her two sons. She decided to push again, perhaps in the hope he would even reconsider. She knew he intended to spend Christmas with his mistress on the state trip, and to be perfectly honest - it didn't hurt anymore. The first time she found he had a mistress, a year after they married, she had been inconsolable. Now, it didn't even hurt. She_ had _to admit it made her feel a little more belittled and unwanted than she cared to admit to anyone, even herself. She felt sort of used but not as if he done it to be bad. However, as much as she had accepted it she still felt used - as if she was only good for one thing.

"I'm sure the boys would like it," she tried, putting the papers to the side as she stood up.

"They don't need me," he smiled, his voice unconcerned and non committal. She decided she couldn't ignore that as she stood at the fireplace and began glaring at him. He looked up, his eyes a little apologetic. After all, the boys did need him. He just needed his mistress more.

"No Rupert, I think it's the other away about," she answered, raising her voice a little. "Can't you cancel the state trip or will your mistress be upset?" .She didn't mean to say it, it had just slipped out. Anger flashed across his face but it stopped mid-way to rage, after all, what she said was perfectly true. She had challenged him, chided him about his extra marital hobbies before - it wasn't as if it was the first time.

"No," he said shortly, " you of all people should know that is not possible." He decided that taking the route of the state-trip was preferable - discussing his mistress, the young Countess De Brazen, was the uncomfortable and unnerving option.

"No you're right, it's not and I apologise because I'm being unrealistic. However," she paused, looking up at the family portrait that hung above the fire, " I shall not apologise for trying to acquaint you with your children." She didn't really want to apologise after all, what was she apologising for? Being used.

"I am perfectly well acquainted with my children," he answered sharply, "and I will not be told otherwise."

"Never mind," she sighed, walking towards where he was seated. She would normally have argued till her face was blue, but it was late and she knew it would get them nowhere. He was a good friend, a bad husband, and a terrible father. It wasn't that he didn't try, but it was always a half-hearted effort when he did, and one that often served to make the distance even wider. Rupert was her friend, but no more, and for that she was glad. It wasn't that she didn't love him, she just wasn't 'in' love with him. It sounded cliché, even to her, but it was true.

"Goodnight," she sighed, patting his shoulder as she made the way to the door.

"Goodnight, Clarisse," he smiled. She went to make her way out but he grabbed her hand, turning her to face him gently.

"Clarisse, I'm sorry," Rupert said apologetically.

"I understand Rupert. Just make sure they don't find out, the boys I mean. I can stand knowing - I can even stand the humiliation, it doesn't hurt. If they found out it would wreck their image of our family and I don't want that. You understand?"

"I will try Clarisse, but it's not who I am. This isn't who I am. We don't love each other and maybe the boys should know that." His half hearted, unconvincing attempt at trying to sound sorry and pitiful just riled her even more. She glared at him, her fiery eyes dancing at him in the dull room.

"Rupert!" she flashed angrily, still glaring at him, " It will remain the way it is. If you want them to know, at least be part of their lives before you shatter their illusions."

"Clarisse, I'm sorry I hurt you." Again, it was conceited, almost patronising as he said it. He didn't even look at her. He was distracted when he said it and it really did rile her.

"You're not hurting me," she said curtly. "Be very sure of that! Perhaps it is your reputation that you shall hurt if you continue so carelessly. I care little for the fact you happen to screw any -," she stopped, her temper being reigned in yet again and her angry tone coming to a halt. He glared at her, his eyes almost daring her to continue.

She turned away from him, looking towards the window as the snow drifted in the inky blackness of a cold, European night. She shivered as she felt his eyes scan over her, perhaps apologetically, perhaps with malice. She decided the latter was most likely. She didn't really want to face him again but eventually she knew she couldn't just stand there. She would face him, she had to. She was no longer a young girl, afraid that her much older and mature husband should not approve if she argued back. She was a woman, able to stand her own, able to argue as an equal.

"Perhaps this is not the time to discuss this," Rupert said, his tone final and partly dismissive. She stood a moment, looking into the evening, contemplating whether to argue or to turn and go to her room. A fruitless argument it would turn out to be. He was set, stubborn, and didn't care whether his children needed him or not; it was a losing battle.

" No, perhaps not," she sighed, in resignation. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Clarisse. Sleep well," Rupert half-smiled.

She glided past him, ignoring him as she did so and slamming the door behind her. She paused in the deserted corridor, standing against the wall and gritting her teeth to control her emotions. She sighed as she leaned off the wall, walking to the window directly in front of her. The icy snow that was drifting heavily in the sky gathered at the corners of the windows. She pressed her head against the cool glass and sighed, her breath condensing and making a misty cloud on the perfectly polished surface. Rupert could always do this, make her angry and uncontrolled. He was so aggravating, the way he treated her like a child.

She was so lost in her thoughts, and lost in the wintry scene before her, she didn't notice an unobtrusive, but aware Joseph, coming down the corridor. His heavy, almost reassuring footsteps brought her out of her wintry dreams.

"Oh, Joseph," she smiled distractedly. A warm feeling of contentment stole over her and she suddenly felt a little better.

"Hello, Your Majesty," he answered placidly. She half-smiled. She noticed, as she often did, how attractive he was. She wasn't attracted to him, after all she was married, but he was handsome and fit. He had wonderful deep eyes and a caring voice which often comforted her.

"May I join your gazing?" Joseph questioned, coming to stand beside her. " Or is it simply for your viewing purposes only?"

"Oh, Joseph," she laughed dryly, motioning with her hand and sliding along on the slippery floor so he could stand along beside her. He looked at her, then to the window, then her again. He noticed the slight distress on her face as she looked out into the icy night.

"Your Majesty?" Joseph questioned, looking at her and fiddling with the Rolex around his wrist, "Are you ok?"

"No, no Joseph I'm not," she sighed, turning from the window and leaning against the window sill, "and how may times must I ask you to call me Clarisse?"

"Always once more, Your Majesty," Joseph answered. She half frowned, half smiled at him. He could not see her face, for he was still staring out into the winter night. He could hear the soft breath that escaped her every second and it made him secretly euphoric ; he had never known such a wonderful creature could be alive.

"Perhaps if I ordered you to call me Clarisse..." she suggested, nudging him gently in the ribs, "Perhaps you may call me Clarisse then!"

"No need for orders..." He smiled, swivelling round also so he mimicked her, staring at the ornate tapestry on the wall directly across, "Clarisse."

She pivoted her head. A shocked, humoured, and what seemed like her being pleased, greeted his smile warmly. Her eyes danced in the silvery moonlight, which bathed her in an eerie, almost angelic glow.

"That's better," she laughed, "I am Clarisse when we are like this."

"I wonder Clarisse.." he smiled, sliding down the wall a little and sitting on the floor. He reached the hard surface effortlessly. He sat on the Italian marble, crossing his legs in a Buddha- like manner. She watched him closely and as he reached up, his hand offered out to her, utter horror played through her. Did he expect her to sit crossed legged on the floor? Yet, she felt the urge overcome her, tugging at her as his eyes offered her a place beside him. She quickly looked around, and whipping up his hand, fitted down onto the cold marble beside him and tucked her legs underneath each other. He smiled as she joined him. They sat, enjoying each others company for a few silent moments, when at last she spoke.

"You wonder what, Joseph?" Clarisse questioned eagerly, remembering his uttering before he'd challenged her to sitting on the floor. He paused a moment, as if trying to recollect what he said. In those short moments, he never took his eyes of her and it made her feel dreadfully uncomfortable but utterly ecstatic at the same time.

"I was wondering," he smiled, diverting his eyes from hers and returning to the Rolex on his wrist to fiddle with the catch," what made you so unhappy before we got lost in a different conversation?"

"Oh," she said, looking down at the almost inky lines on the intricate marble, then to the streams of light snaking their way into the hall. A question perhaps she would quite happily have avoided.

"'Oh', what?" he said, forefront and unconcealed. She wasn't surprised, nor taken back by his pointedness. In fact she found it interestingly refreshing. Never had she known a man that got straight to the point about things, even if he happened to be the King, or a Minister, or a member of Parliament. Men too often had a tendency to beat about the bush, but with Joseph, with Joseph it was different. He always told the truth and always questioned thoroughly and pointedly. He never danced around subjects.

"Oh, I was upset." she said finally, settling that honesty was most likely the best policy.

"May I ask why?" Joseph questioned, again looking at her with those eyes that took in every word and gesture she made.

"No," she said quietly, "It's complicated."

"But I could make a fair guess," he interrupted, again staring at her in half shadowy light.

"I'm sure you could-" her voice failed her.

"Your husband," Joseph resolved, offering her his hand as he stood up. "It's getting cold down here and I don't want to be blamed for your being ill in the morning...it wouldn't do, not for the Queen." She took his hand, raising an eye brow at his very double sided comment.

The kitchens, in the very bowels of the palace, were considerably warmer than the icy corridor they had been sitting in minutes before. It was humid and moist, making her feel drowsy as she sat down at the old wooden table in the center of the kitchen. She watched Joseph intently as he bustled about the kitchen, making drinks for them. She had, up until this point, looked on Joseph as a friend but never to this depth. He was so kind, so truthful, always to her. He always cared for her, even if she had a tendency to be uncaring back. Never had he hurt her, he'd always been there for her. He helped her to look after the boys, he was practically their father...

She smiled up at him as he sat down, placing a steaming mug of cocoa in front of her. Again she noticed him, how utterly attractive he was.

"So, what was it this time?" he growled, sipping some cocoa from his cup.

"Ah, nothing. I am overreacting," she sighed, running her finger along the rim of the mug and avoiding his eyes. He placed a restraining hand on her wrist, forcing her to look at him. The fear and what was perhaps pain in her eyes was unmistakable.

"You know he has lovers," she blurted out. He let go of her, as if she had said something that disgusted him, or burned him.

"I don't love him but I don't know...I don't understand why he does this. I know he's unhappy, so am I, but I don't have lovers." She bowed her head, willing the hot tears that pricked the back of her eyes to go away. He sat, stunned but not shocked by her revelations. It wasn't as if he didn't know the King had lovers, that was obvious.

"Clarisse," Joseph said, reaching for her hand across the table. It was alright to touch her but he was afraid he'd never stop if he only touched her hand. "Is there anything I can do?"

It sounded so lame and he felt like an idiot for asking such a cliché question. She looked up, a watery laugh coming from her as she did so.

"No, but thank you for listening," she sniffed, wiping her eyes on the collar of her jacket. "What could you do?"

He had ideas, highly inappropriate ones, and things he'd never dare to suggest, but yet, they crept to the front of his mind. He pushed them to the back, willing them to go away. She was his Queen, and his friend, and nothing more. He could never, would never, do that to her.

Clarisse smiled at him again but she felt tired, it had been a long, emotionally draining evening. She stood up, the chair pushing out and scraping along the floor. He simply sat, registering her movements as she bent down and kissed his cheek in a friendly manner.

"Goodnight, Joseph." She smiled, her hand burning through his black shirt and heating up every part of his body.

"Goodnight," he managed, "Clarisse."


	2. Chapter 2

_None of these characters belong to either Crtjester or Little Obsessions, they belong to Meg Cabot and Disney. Please enjoy. Thanks for all the great reviews!_

The Genovian palace came alive early every morning. Queen Clarisse Renaldi was an early riser anyway. She had been up for over an hour before her ladies maids entered her suite. She had never known life to be without interruptions, even as a small child she could remember having maids. This morning was no different. They set about caring to the comfort of their Queen. Clarisse was especially fond of that comfort, but often she found herself longing for privacy.

"Excuse me, Your Majesty, but would you like breakfast in here this morning?"

"Tell me, has my husband eaten yet?"

"Yes m'am, King Rupert left earlier this morning."

"Very well," she resigned, "I'll just have tea for now."

"Yes m'am."

Clarisse sat sipping her tea, watching the snowflakes shower down, landing on her balcony. Watching the weather often reflected on her mood. Right now she seemed peaceful enough.

"Excuse me, Your Majesty." His voice was deep and low, and she was sure it could calm a storm. "Good morning, Joseph," she spoke as she smiled to him. "Sleep well?"

"Very well, thank you. I was wandering at what hour you would like to leave for the winter lodge? It is not very far, but in this weather it will take longer. Also the weather reports are giving much more snow."

"So we need to leave as soon as possible?" She questioned the man, admiring his black attire, and the way it so perfectly fit him.

"Yes, it would be a good idea." He noticed her eyes as they travelled the length of his body and back again. He stood tall and proud, and tried to hide from himself the thoughts of her that plagued him.

"Joseph, I'll leave that up to you, and I wanted you to know that I'm very glad you'll be going with us." She gave him a soft look that he knew would melt the devil himself. He nodded to her, smiling in return.

"I'm honoured to be going. I know of two boys who are especially excited this morning also. They have been up since 6am, practicing sledding downstairs on that ramp."  
Clarisse let out a laugh at the thought of her boys. They were her pride and joy, and she relished the antics they would get themselves in. They were so carefree and honest. "Oh, I bet they have."

"We should leave no later than noon," reminding her, "we want to get there before nightfall."

"Very well. I'll have them pack up the boys, and I'll be ready by then." She couldn't help but look in his eyes. They were so deep, and his soul could be read by what she saw in them. Bringing herself out of the trance, she blushed, knowing her stare was caught by him.

"Then I'll meet you downstairs at noon. Excuse me for now." Joseph turned sharply, hiding from her the smile he could not hold inside. She was beautiful to him, everything she did, even the way she blushed. He had to shake her off his mind. He had work to do, a trip to prepare for. He had yet to pack for himself. At first thought, he had not liked the idea of spending the holiday tucked away in the mountains, but now he was beginning to take to the idea. Yes, he would enjoy spending time with her.

Joseph bundled his coat closer around him. This was the fourth trip to the limo, and they had yet to finish loading her bags. It was already past noon, and the snow had measured another inch since this morning. Two boys were running around the limo, covered in the wet slush. Snowballs bounced and splattered in every direction. Joseph had keen eyesight and reflexes, therefore had yet to be hit. However, he was the only member of the staff that had escaped their wrath.

"Pierre, Philippe! Time to go."

"Joe," Pierre stopped his torment on the guards, "Father isn't going to meet us at the lodge, is he?"

"Your father is King, you know he has duties that must come first." Joseph hated having to see the disappointment on Pierre's face. "I'm afraid not." Pierre quietly climbed in the back of the limo, obviously sulking.

"I don't mind. It'll be good anyway," Philippe popped another snowball on an unsuspecting guard. "That's the spirit." Joseph made sure the boys were in, and comfortable. Philippe had never cared much for his father. He was his mother's boy. As long as he was with her, all was well in the world. "Let me get your mother, and we'll be off...and no snow in the limo." Joseph was careful to stress that last part. After all, there would have been had he not said something.

The main doors opened for her, wrapped tightly in white fur. Joseph hurried up the steps to help her down, carefully watching for ice. "Your Majesty, you're late."

"Honestly Joseph, I'm never late," she explained as she took his arm.

There was nothing he could say to that. She was Queen of Genovia, she had the power to change the time in this country if she wanted, he just wished she could rule the weather as well.

Clarisse made herself comfortable. It was to be a few hours drive. Her boys were with her, they would keep her occupied enough, especially Philippe, who could talk hours on end to her if she let him. Noticing Pierre's withdrawal, she commented, "He can't always come, darling."

"He could just once," the little boy blurted out, showing off his hurt.

"Believe it or not, I understand," she tried to reason with him. "My father was always away or too busy too. I hardly ever got to see him, and when I did, it would be for only a few minutes time. I didn't really understand it when I was your age either. Sometimes I still don't. The point is, Pierre, he will always be your father. He loves you, and he makes sure you are taken very good care of. He doesn't mean to be away so often, there just are not enough hours in the day." She rested her head back as she noticed his ease. She would always try to cover for him, for the sake of her boys. If her mother would have loved her, she would have done the same thing.

The words he heard her speak were the truth, in a round about way. He admired her for that. She had a lot of hidden strength. She had a lot that was hidden. Oh, he had to stop thinking of her like that. Even now he sat admiring her form in the mirror, the most beautiful sight this trip had to offer was sitting right behind him. It brought to mind the sanity of his own King. How could he walk away from her so easily? What was the reasoning behind avoiding a family such as this?

It was an hour into nightfall before the lights of the winter lodge came into view. Pierre had slept for several hours. Philippe had caught sight of everything they passed, and spoke of it like he had never seen one before. It wasn't hard to believe that he talked in his sleep. Joseph made sure she was in safely before helping to unload the car, both boys now running through the pale blue snow landscaped perfectly over the side of the mountain.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" she quietly asked of him as he sat down the last of the luggage.

"Breathtaking," however he would never know which sight he referred to.

"Better get the boys in. It's getting colder out there, darker too." She threw a wrap around her as she opened the main front door. "Pierre! Philippe! Come in!"

Clarisse shook the few snowflakes from her clothing off, Joseph carefully eyeing her.

"Mother!" a little snowman hustled in, "Mother, Joe! I can't find Pierre." He was out of breath, having run around the entire building.

"What? What do you mean? He was with you, where were you?" The look on her face was ghastly. Her hands flew to him, shaking him a bit as she questioned him.

"I can't find him, we were playing, running and throwing snowballs, and then you called, and he was gone." Philippe said, running the entire sentence with no oxygen.

"Joseph..." He was buttoning his coat, already half out the door when she looked to him. The door slammed, bringing an eerie echo through the home.

_Please Review - it would be really appreciated!_

_yours,_

_The Authors._


	3. Chapter 3

Pierre couldn't make out his hands in front of him in the thick of the snow. It was dark and unbelievably cold and yet, he wasn't afraid. The snow, piercing and icy stung his soft skin. He scrunched his eyes up against the sleety daggers and strained to see the lights of the house. Nothing. He knew this mountain well, but not in the inky black of a horrific storm could he even dare to find his way back to his Mama. He wandered a little, one hand groping the air in front of him, the other shielding his eyes, offering him a small amount of shelter against the weather. Suddenly a sweeping gust of wind knocked him over. He fell with a soft thud on the snow, his face buried into it.

Perhaps, if it had been any other child, it would not have been so painful. But he was small for a 12 year old and he had never had to survive on his own like this before. He picked himself up with all the strength he could muster, his legs feeling slightly wobbly and his hands feeling as if they were no longer attached to the ends of his wrist. He groped with his hand again, coming into contact with a rough wall of rock. He whimpered slightly as a sharp edge of a prickly edge tore his skin apart. He looked down to his injured hand blindly, running over it with his fingers. The hot blood made him shiver and he applied a little pressure to the vicious cut.

Proceeding forward in his veil of darkness, the snow suddenly started to get lighter, until it no longer fell on his mousy brown hair. This place, wherever he was as he could not make it out in the darkness, was a little warmer and far more sheltered than the storm outside. He came to the conclusion it had to be the cave he so often played in when he came up the mountain.

Feeling along the wall with his hands, whimpering involuntarily as his wound came into contact with it. He had a rough idea where it was and as his hand came to finally rest on the crudely built ledge that his brother and himself had built with the help of Joseph a few years ago, he let out a sigh of relief. Surely the flashlight would still be there, he could only, in his childishness, hope it was. His hand snaked along it, fumbling for anything that felt like a flash light. His hand was sticky with the blood that wouldn't cease to come from his wound. He knew that was not a good sign, - he would have to find something that would at least lessen it.

He groped, lifted it and fuddled for the button on the handle of the heavy torch. Suddenly, and much to his relief the cave was bathed in an eerie glow of yellowy light. He shone the light around, studying his very natural surroundings. The cave was massive and how he enjoyed, even in this case, being here. He remembered fondly coming here with his brother and playing, how he wished Philippe was here now.

The den they had set up still existed, undisturbed as no one ever intruded on 'their' mountain. The old spongy arm chairs that Joseph had heaved up a few winters ago looked suddenly very enticing to the tired boy, yet he felt as if he couldn't sleep. It wasn't like home but it would suffice. He reached up to the ledge and rustled with his healthy hand among the old crisp packets and rusting soda cans that their mother had permitted them to eat and drink secretly. Finding in among them and old piece of table cloth decorated with father Christmases and reindeers he shredded it, making a piece large enough and long enough to wrap around his hand.

Settling down in the old, grey armchair and tucking his legs around him, the flashlight now held firmly in his bandaged hand he shone it out into the mouth of the cave. The snow was still falling thick and fast and he wouldn't dare venture out until it subsided. He knew Joseph would be out looking for him, battling the ferocious winds that were swirling the snow about. He just hoped and prayed Joseph would be safe. He prayed often and a lot, for everyone he knew, for everything he cared about. He prayed secretly that one day he wouldn't have to be King.

His friends, though he had few because he felt he couldn't really trust anyone, made fun of him because he prayed and had a trust in God. He knew it wasn't him that should be King, but he didn't know how to tell his father, or voice his thoughts. He just knew, more than anything, he wanted to go out into the world and serve god differently, not as a monarch.

He smiled, thinking of how praying often helped him understand the strange world that he knew his mother had unwillingly brought him into. It helped when he was trying to fathom out his parents marriage, which he knew was nothing but lies - mostly on his fathers part.

He had, for the first time in his young life, time to think about it - he wanted to serve God, but not in the way everyone else thought he should. He felt a sudden comfort, knowing soon he would be found by Joseph or maybe even his mother and be taken back to the warmth of the house.

His eyes drooped a little as he snuggled up, using what was left of the table cloth to wrap around him, just for extra warmth - he knew he'd be ok.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Clarisse flung open the door and watched Joseph go, perhaps only meters in the thick snow and then he disappeared. She stood, motionless for a moment. She wanted desperately to go with Joseph, but she knew if she did he would get angry at the fact she was risking her life as well as her sons'. Her little boy, standing by her side shivering, his teeth chattering slightly brought her back to the world where he was.

"Oh, Philippe," she smiled distractedly, shutting the door with a gentle thud, "my darling, you're freezing, go change right away." He done as she bid, running up the wooden stairs of the house and leaving slushy footprints behind.

Clarisse felt the silence of the house envelope her horribly. She felt ill as she realised the enormity of the situation. Pierre, her beautiful son was missing. Pierre, the heir to the throne. She swallowed, if it went wrong, if they never found him not only had she lost something that mattered to her most in the world, she had failed the country. Shivering slightly, though the room was warm, she pulled her wrap around her as she sat down on the couch. She felt helpless. Joseph was out there battling the elements while she sat in the warmth, wishing she could help. Her little boy, how dear he was to her, how much he amused her with how deep and philosophical he was. It was a quality he took from neither of his parents. She knew her oldest didn't want to be king, it simply showed through as the type of person he was. He was deep, deeper than she could probably imagine. She knew there was something about him that was not in royal blood, something special, something that cried out to be answered. She knew it was about helping people, and she knew as a king he could never really fulfill whatever it was that attracted him so.

Joseph; nor could she lose him, what a horrific thought. Perhaps it was selfish, but she needed him, a tiny part of her wanted him, if she admitted it. She didn't want him as a friend, she wanted more than that. She scolded herself, she wasn't allowed to think like that, it wasn't right or proper . It was, above all, highly immoral.

Her want, her fear of losing him, was far different from the fear for her son. Her fear for him, though no stronger or prominent, frightened her further than anything. It wasn't right to care about him so much, yet hide it. She couldn't breath when he was near her, she couldn't think straight. All she felt was for him, all she felt was wrong. It wasn't lust, well partly it was. But something else, something far more meaningful, something far more dangerously enticing lingered in her.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Joseph shone the flash light over the snow, looking for footsteps. The small prints, deeply imprinted in the snow, faint because they were quickly being covered by fresh snow led to the 'den'. His heart done a little flip as he seen the faint light emitting from the mouth of the vast cave buried in the mountain. Horror filled him as he noticed the blood that coincided with the footsteps, appearing every few centimetres in the virginal white of the snow as he followed the outer wall of the cave.

"Pierre!" he bellowed over the storm, nearing the mouth of the cave and shining the torch inside. Relief, or more than that washed over him as he saw the young boy, quite contently curled up on the old chair that Joseph had grudged lugging up the mountain a few years ago. Now he was glad he'd done it. He stopped his raged shouting, instead quietly tip-toeing over to where Pierre was curled up. He had been smart, Joseph admired. The bandage round his hand, though covered in blood had perhaps, he hoped, slowed the bleeding now from what appeared to be a very vicious cut. He had been alone longer than two hours and he was freezing, even though he had a skiing jacket and snow trousers on. His lips, usually pink were a faint shade of blue and his skin was so pale it was almost transparent.

Sitting down the torch momentarily, Joseph pulled his Jacket off himself and wrapped it round the young prince, then scooped Pierre up into his strong arms. Shivering, the young boy half-consciously rested his head in the crook of Josephs neck. Lifting his own flashlight, leaving the other behind, he made his way, unobstructed to the mouth of the cave and into the snow storm. It had lightened and eased considerably and now, if only a little, he was able to see a few paces in front. In no time, with the help of the flashlight the house came into view. Pierre stirred a little in his arms as Joseph's freezing feet sunk further into the abysmally deep snow. Joseph smiled inwardly to himself - he could already see the relief and joy on Clarisse's face.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Clarisse jumped as the door of the house flew open, leaving the drowsy Philippe on the couch. Joseph stood in the doorway, clutching her sleeping son in his arms, smiling at her and shivering slightly. She felt as if she couldn't move her feet to reach them quick enough.

"Oh, my little boy," she gasped, taking the half-awake Pierre from Joseph's arms and cradling him to her. Joseph turned, shaking the snow off of himself and closing the door behind them.

"Beside the fire," Joseph chattered, taking Pierre from her and laying him in front of the fire on the bearskin rug. Pierre murmured, opening his eyes as Clarisse hovered over him - gently stripping him of his clothing.

"Here," Joseph said mechanically, handing the queen a basin of steaming water and a bottle of oil that he'd quickly fetched from the kitchen, "bathe his hand while I warm him up". She silently did as she was told, unravelling the bandage delicately.

"Ahh!" Pierre flinched, jerking into a sitting position.

"Sorry darling," she muttered, throwing the blood drenched cloth into the crackling fire and plunging his small hand into the basin. She hated blood, especially that of her sons.

His skin, now considerably more coloured was still freezing as Joseph rubbed each part of his body ferociously, reaching for the foil he'd taken from the kitchen and wrapping it around his feet.

"Pierre," Joseph smiled, more to Clarisse than the young boy, "you had us worried." She smiled back, then returned, administering to her son lovingly. Glad, glad for the fact her son was safe………….as was Joseph.

Clarisse watched her two sons disappear to bed from the bottom of the stairs, noticing how tired Pierre looked. She didn't blame him, he had, after all, endured the freezing of a European night.

She turned to Joseph after a moment. He was standing by the fire, rubbing his hands in front of it. His clothes, she could see were soaked through, even though he had had a jacket on. Then she remembered it had been wrapped around Pierre when they had unceremoniously came in.

"You must be freezing," she muttered, moving towards him.

" I-I a-am," he chattered, clearly embarrassed that he wasn't acting very tough now. She smiled slightly.

"Is this your case?" she questioned, pointing to one in the mountain of cases, that in the events of the evening where still lying on the floor, packed. Only Pierre's and Philippe's lay open, Clarisse having rummaged for their pyjamas.

He nodded, still shivering. She wasted no time, unzipping his case and pulling out a warm black jumper and a pair of black trousers.

"Here," she ordered, handing him the dry clothing and making her way to the kitchen, "I'll make the coffee."

Warmer and far dryer now, Joseph smiled at her as she handed him a steaming mug of coffee and sat down beside him on the couch. She looked quite beautiful, tired but beautiful.

"Thank you," she whispered, after taking a long sip of steaming tea from her china cup, "thank you for what you did this evening, it was brave and it…." She trailed off, not sure how to convey how much what he'd done had meant to her, even though she thought he already knew.

"It's my job," he smiled, brushing off her compliment kindly and in the process dispelling the silence, "and I would have done it, even if it had not been my job."

"I'm glad you have this job," she smiled, leaning forward and resting her hand on his knee. She didn't mean for it to have that affect on him, it had been a friendly gesture, or at least she wanted to pretend it was.

He jumped, losing control of a situation he thought he had well handled. She touched him and it…..well, it was what he wanted but not what was right…..how could he, how could he resist what he felt. Her hand, burning on his leg was soon gone as she saw his reaction - realising something she never had as it burned in his eyes. Fighting the urge to keep her hand there, fighting the urge to see that if she kept her hand there, what would he do? She wanted to see his reaction, to know if every moment he spent with her, and without, he thought about her.

"Well, goodnight Joseph." she murmured quickly, standing up from the sofa and placing the nearly full cup of tea on the table. She edged away from him, nearing the stairs.

"Clarisse I-," he tried, wishing he hadn't let her know, wishing he'd kept his desires to himself. She turned to him, her eyes quite clearly telling him an explanation was needless.

He sat, scolding himself for his reaction to her wonderful touch. When had he not wanted that? When had he not wanted more than just that? He wanted her so badly, he wanted her to know what he'd do for her - he wanted her to know he'd quite happily die for her. He wanted to keep her safe and make her his, even if what he wanted, he could never have.

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	4. Chapter 4

"You were up a lot last night, did you sleep at all?" Joseph asked, admiring how wonderfully beautiful she was despite her lack of sleep.

"I just checked on him a few times."

"A few, Clarisse?"

"I'm his mother, I'm entitled to worry about my son. What was your excuse," she eyed him as she sat, motioning for her tea to be poured. He looked up from his breakfast, not expecting that at all. "If you knew I was up all night, you must have been up yourself."

"It's my job." He concluded as a good answer.

"I see, is that all?" Clarisse deeply hoped he had much more of an answer than that. He looked away. He didn't want to tell her how he really felt, about her and the boys. He had to remind himself that they were not his family. This was just his job.

"Joseph, I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. I know you care for those boys as much as I do. For heavens' sake, you're more of a father to them than Rupert is."

"Clarisse..."

"It's true, we both know it. Don't deny it here, with just us. Please don't feel bad about it, I don't. They need someone, Joseph. Someone like you." She sounded stern, almost as if she required him to take over the job. He could not hide his feelings for them, so he resigned to tell her the truth.

"I was afraid he would get sick."

"I always am." Clarisse took a bite, motioning for Joseph to sit beside her.

"Pierre dealt with the situation very well."

"Yes, he deals with anything very well. He's something special, Joseph. I don't say that because he's my son. I can see something in him, something different, but I don't know what it is." Joseph nodded, understanding perfectly what she was speaking of. He had seen it first hand last night. The boy was lost, in a snow storm, by himself, and it was freezing. Pierre had not been worried. He had found shelter and went to sleep of all things.

"Joseph," Clarisse spoke softly, "I was worried about you too, last night." Their eyes met, exchanging feelings that no words could ever express. Feelings they were not yet prepared to try and explain.

The banging brought them out of their reverie. What sounded like a herd of wild horses were in fact two pre-teenage boys racing to the breakfast table.

"Mother..." Philippe was cut off by a stern glance from her. He sat down quickly and quietly.

"Good morning Philippe, Pierre. I did not know that Rupert put a race track inside." She looked at both boys, trying not to smile, but finding it very hard.

"We're sorry mother," Pierre stated. "It's just that we're so excited. We'd like to go out!" His eyes were bright with ideas of snow.

"No, absolutely not! It's a blizzard out there!" Clarisse was turning upset on them.

"Mother, please," begged Philippe. He knew his mother held a soft spot for his pleas.

"I said no! Especially after last night. Surely you two can find something to occupy your minds inside today." That was the end of it. She had spoken, they hung their heads in disappointment. "Pierre, let me see your hand this morning."

Pierre brighten up, intending not to let the disappointment ruin his whole day. "It is well, mother. Meredith dressed it fresh just a bit ago." Pierre was always so polite, so formal.

"Very well. Finish your breakfast." She glanced at Joseph, knowing he was curious as to the condition of his hand as well. Joseph had a heart, and it melted hers.

"Mother, may we set up the trains today?" Philippe came out of his pouting. He waited all year, every year, just to play with those trains. Clarisse sipped her tea, looking over to Joseph.

"I believe that question should be directed to Joseph." He smiled. He was so much a boy himself when it came to trains. He had longed for a train set when he was small. At age10 his dream came true. It was small, and nothing like the ones these boy's had, but it was a train. The memory of it now was almost as good as the real thing.

----------------------------

Maybe it was too warm inside. Clarisse sat, curled up in a huge chair. It was Rupert's favourite chair, although he had sat in it only once. The fire was burning bright, emitting a soft glow of warmth, opposite of what she saw outside. It was the middle of the day, yet the sun did not reflect off of anything. It looked much like it did last night. The snow a soft blue, covering everything in sight. Her boys had been hard at work for over an hour now, directed by Joseph, who they had now termed 'conductor'. He was on the floor with them crawling back and forth, piecing together an entire railroad conglomerate, complete with two villages and four trains. The endless tracks were pieced together, running over or under every piece of furniture in their way. She found it very enticing, very interesting. She had raised her brows on more than one occasion this day already. Yes, it was quite warm. Warm enough for her to shed her heavy sweater to the softer silk blouse underneath.

She had not seen him laugh often, not like this. His whole body shook with delight. It attracted her. What was it about him? She knew. It was everything. It was form, his features. It was his personality, and his strength. It was his thoughtfulness, his caring ways. It was the way he showed his softer side only to her. It was the rough exterior he used in his work. It was his eyes, how they gave his true feelings away. It was his mouth, how she ached to touch it, to claim it. She was so close...the whistle blew, jolting her back to reality. Clarisse had lost herself. She couldn't help but damn the train whistle.

--------------------------------

"Do you really think it's safe, Joseph?" She crossed her arms, wondering if her boys had listened to her.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Perfectly safe. It's stopped snowing, and the sun has come out." He looked straight at her, pressing her to agree. "It's never been a better time to sled."

"Oh, fine." She knew she had lost anyway. Her boys were already dressed, half out the door, as she yelled, "Stay on the grounds!"

"I know you're worried, but they need to be boys, normal ones." Joseph stressed his thought.

"I know, I really do." She nodded, still uneasy about them being out by their selves.

"Besides, it will give me time to recover." Joseph stretched his arms, moaning as if he was much older. He had made her smile. Life was good.

"You've travelled some distance today," she said, motioning toward the nearest train station.

"All in the line of duty, madam." Joseph put on his most serious facade. "I have to admit, I had good company," motioning to her.

"Me? Nonsense. I did nothing."

"On the contrary. You, Clarisse, provided the entertainment." He had no longer gotten the words out than he realized what he had said. Looking to her, he couldn't help but tell her the truth. "You are the most amazing view this trip has had to offer."

She swallowed hard, trying to control the billions of excited nerve endings throughout her body. "Well, thank you." Never had anyone spoke to her like that before. In truth, it even made her blush a little. It felt wonderful, warm and right.

"Come," was all he said, giving her his arm. She took it, a little hesitantly at first, but then followed wholeheartedly. They walked toward the middle of the room, glancing at the boys outside as they passed the windows. He let go of her arm, motioning for her to stay. She stood still, arching her brows in thought as to what he was up to.

Jumping over a miniature village, he reached for the stereo, flicking on the power. Not wanting to spend any more time waiting, he picked up the first CD on the shelf. It wasn't the best he could think of, but it would do. He slid it in, and turned back to her. Joseph stood admiring her, watching her subtle movements as she stood, now understanding his actions. It was she that reached for him this time, as she began to sway to the music that filled the room.

As he caught her arms, he pulled her close. He wanted to feel her body grazing over his. He knew it was wrong, but it felt like something he had to do to survive. It was like breathing, or drinking, or sleeping. Yes, he would dance with her, for as long as she allowed. They would dance with hardly air between them, only under their feet. He couldn't help but look in her eyes. He was ashamed for what he was thinking, but he was unable to stop himself. The more he touched her, the more he wanted to touch her. Feeling her body like this was total euphoria, yet he knew there was even a better feeling than this, and he wanted to feel it. He wanted to feel it with her. Moving his face so unbelievably closer, Joseph felt the warm air she exhaled. Tightening his hold on her, he slowed the dance. Clarisse didn't pull away, she didn't falter. She moved towards him, towards his lips. So close...

"Mother!" a voice shouted as the door flew open. "Mother, it's wonderful! We should come up here more often." Philippe's voice trailed on, a mass of words describing the entire scenery of the mountain. He chatted on aimlessly, oblivious to the two dancers, still holding onto one another, slightly swaying. Neither wanted to lose eye contact, or any contact. They had been so close, but in a wrong way. Not here, each seemed to be saying to the other. Just not here. It was too open, open to the boys, not to mention the staff.

They parted, holding onto each others fingers for as long as possible. Clarisse knew, and Joseph realized that Philippe had no intention of letting the two of them have any privacy. He was having too much fun, and had to share the glory with his family and friend. The burst of cold air had been good for them. It cooled the blush to their faces, but made no dent in the heat coming from their bodies. That heat, Joseph knew, was dangerous. It was the kind of heat that is only sated by it's match. His match was her.

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	5. Chapter 5

Chap5.

Never had Clarisse felt so confused after what had happened that day. He had literally controlled her. She could still feel his breath against her lips which where willfully awaiting a kiss she knew would taste wonderful, when her son had burst in. She partly wished he hadn't but she thanked God he had, for she knew if that had not been the case, she would likely have let everything go and kissed him. Not that she didn't want to, she wanted that more than anything, but to have done it, to silently promise him and then know she could do nothing to let them be together, was wrong.

She would have dropped it all; the title, the status, the money, the horrible duty, all to be with him - even if she didn't know if this was what being in love felt like.

She wasn't sure why she wanted to feel his breath on her body, to hear him call her name. She enjoyed his attention, she enjoyed knowing he wanted her, she prayed he knew she returned that with just as much zeal. She wanted him, she wanted to feel his hands on her, she wanted to be able to know she could go to him. She wanted him to love her, just as much as she loved him.

She sighed, trying to rid herself of all thoughts of him but no matter how hard she tried, he was always there. Always at the back of her mind, chipping away at her resistance.

Lifting herself out of the chair, she pulled her fur wrap around her. She moved over to the window, watching the three figures carrying out a rather rough snowball war. After she had been mere millimetres from his lips, so close she could still feel his hot breath on them, he had left. Philippe had begged and for that, she was glad. She was glad they had something to distract them, she was afraid that if that hadn't been there - she'd be lying in bed with him. Not that she didn't want that, but it was so much more that that, it was love. She wasn't imagining it, she knew what it was, but she wanted to run away from it.

She watched them roll and dive in the snow, Joseph aiming football sized snow balls at the 2 boys. It looked like they were having fun and she didn't want to ruin it but nightfall was fast approaching and they hadn't eaten either.

Pulling open the heavy door, she stepped onto the porch. She inhaled the cool air deeply, trying to gather her thoughts that seemed to be whizzing 100 miles above her in the sky. She stepped into the deep snow, her shoes sinking into it. Ever the queen, she managed to trudge gracefully through the ice at her feet.

Joseph saw her, completely dressed in white, moving towards them. Soft flakes of snow rested on her hair and eye lashes, giving her an almost inhumanly beautiful appearance. Nothing could prevent him from wanting her, from wanting her in his arms. He could almost imagine it, fantasize about kissing her, holding her in his arms. He often wondered if it was healthy to want something you could never have so much. He wanted to run away from it, to hope that if he wasn't near her the want would disappear.

"Hello gentleman," she smiled. He tried to catch her eye, tried to convey something to her. He couldn't help but get the feeling she was avoiding him, he didn't blame her. He knew how close they had been, God! He wished he could hold her. He could imagine it, he had fantasised it, he had spent nights lying in bed simply thinking about her.

"Come on," she tried, " time to go inside, you've had your fun." The two boys faces fell immediately, looking to Joseph to try and win them some extra time. He looked a little sullen as well. But Clarisse had the lurching feeling that it certainly wasn't from her putting a stop to their fun.

"Oh but Mama," Pierre sniffed, "a little longer, just a little." She began to stare him down and he knew it was useless. Motioning for his brother, who reluctantly dropped a snow ball, they traipsed back to the lodge, their faces longer than their bodies.

She quickly followed, dreading a circumstance where she had to be alone with him.

He lagged behind her, wishing he could reach out for her…….he didn't. They didn't exchange a glance or mutter a word as they trudged over the icy snow.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

As they sat around the sitting area, the atmosphere was painfully strained. She couldn't look at him for fear of never looking away. The silence, even though the boys chatted animatedly, was defining. She was so distracted, so distressed that she had hardly eaten at dinner. His constant attempts at making eye contact were fruitless. She refused to look at him, refused to acknowledge what she felt for him. The fire cracked softly, offering some sort of noise as the boys began to quieten down and get drowsy.

"Philippe, Pierre," she said softly, lifting her youngest son off of the couch, "come on, it's time you went to bed." He struggled in her arms a moment, moaning he wasn't tired but then settled in, cuddling into his mothers chest. Pierre lifted himself languidly, following behind his mother as she mounted the stairs.

Joseph watched them go from his seat by the fire. Sitting back heavily, he stared into the cold coffee in his cup. He found himself wishing the contents of that cup where something a little stronger, something to ease the pain.

Out the window, the snow was falling in soft flakes now, cold and icy and dark - he had reason to believe the weather outside was mimicking the moods of the woman who was moving lightly above him, putting her children to sleep. Nothing could stop him wanting her, it was impossible. Coming here had been a terrible idea, spending time with her without the prying eyes of the palace was harder on him. The urge to kiss her, the urge to tell her how he felt was made stronger by what had happened earlier that day. How near her lips had been still made him tingle, still made him want to be in that dangerous but beautiful situation.

He heard her soft footsteps come down the stairs, her long legs first, then her perfect body. She walked past where he was, as if he wasn't there. He was angry at her for ignoring him but he understood. He heard her busy herself in the kitchen, the kettle whistling and tea being poured.

She looked so strained, so upset as she exited the kitchen. Again she walked past him but this time, this time he did something. Standing up he gently gripped her arm. She jumped, dropping her cup with the steaming tea as it shattered on the floor. Her eyes were suddenly full of fear.

"Clarisse, I must- we need-," words failed him and he just stood there gripping her arm, his eyes staring into hers as she shook under his touch. Suddenly the heat, the urge the need became so over powering. His lips descended on hers, softly landing on her perfect mouth. She was motionless in his arms, her breathing hard and uneven as he pulled away. He couldn't read her eyes or her actions or how she felt but hell, he felt better.

She ripped her arms from his and wrapped it round his neck, pressing her lips to his, searing and hot and passionate and that was it………… he was hers.

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	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Queen Clarisse Renaldi stood, her arms enveloped around her security guard, and her lips pressed tightly against his. Earlier she had semi-decided to keep her distance, but now, now the gap between them had been crossed. With the kiss, her ability to think had vanished like the summer breeze in the midst of the winter storm. They had easily and naturally melted into each other in front of the burning embers of the stone fireplace. Neither one had the ability to realize the danger involved; the two boys just up the circular staircase, the two maids and cook who staffed the winter getaway, King Rupert's habit of appearing out of nowhere without warning, and the danger they imposed on themselves. For as good as it was between them, there was always an equal and opposite torture.

Breaking herself out of the reverie they had entombed themselves in, Clarisse pulled away from him. She could feel the warm air coming from him as he tried to steady his breathing. The air was awfully hot. It had been remarkable. No wonder she had lost herself. Realizing what she had done, she put her hand on his chest and pushed him away. Shaking her head, trying to deny her feelings, she spoke, "NO Joseph. This can't happen. How dare you...," she tried to finish.

"How dare I?" His eyes widely glaring the queen who stood before him, "May I remind you, _YOU _kissed me back." Joseph studied her look, not able to decipher exactly what her feelings were.

"You kissed me first. It's not proper for a security guard to kiss his queen, to say the least." She had shifted herself deep into her role. She stepped further back from him, trying to persuade herself that she didn't want him.

"It's nothing you didn't want,_ YOUR MAJESTY_." Joseph stressed out his last words, mocking her as she played with his feelings. "Any time I can do anything for the crown...," he said, bowing low.

"How dare you Joseph! You cannot talk to me like that!" she fumed. "I am the Queen of Genovia!"

"I know who you are, probably better than anyone. You cannot look at me and tell me that you did not want to kiss me." He was daring her now, pushing her to reveal her true self.

"I did not," she hissed.

"You 'did not' what, Your Majesty?" He stepped forward, angry at her for denying her feelings yet again.

"I.."

"Yes?"

"I did not want to .." He had came so close, his body brushed hers. His mouth was only inches away, soft and alluring to her. "I..." Clarisse met his lips once again, the fighting now raging between their tongues. The battle was intense. Joseph squeezing his arms around her hips, as her arms pulled tightly around his neck. From a small distance, one could not tell where one began or the other ended.

Again Clarisse pulled away, breathing heavily. She shook her head slowly, but turned quickly, running for the stairs. She had no more taken three steps than he had her in his arms. Joseph scooped her up as she kicked and beat on his chest and shoulders. "Put me down! Joseph, right now, put me down!" When he didn't answer, but began walking, she questioned, "Where are you taking me? I demand to know." 1

"Very well." Joseph managed to open the front door, walking out into the night. "I am taking her Highness to cool off!" Eyeing the snowbank the boys had slid down earlier, Joseph hoisted her higher in his arms, and tossed her into the freezing snow drift.

She screamed. Joseph, watching from a few feet away, turned, and headed back inside. Greeted by one of the maids he offered an explanation, "Oh everything's just fine, thank you. The Queen simply wanted to cool off a bit. It was too hot in here for her." Joseph led the maid and himself inside, and shut the door.

Shocked by the ice cold, Clarisse layed sprawled in the snow. She had heard him slam the front door, and yet could not believe that he had left her here. Hell, he had thrown her out here. It was more than cold as she tried to move. Her hands sank in the snow, looking for something solid to push up against. "Damn that man!" she said to herself. "When I get inside I am going to..." she broke off. What was she going to do? Finally able to lift herself upright, she trampled through the high snow, back to the front door. Shaking some of the ice off, she realized she had cooled down. No one had ever done anything to her like that before. Joseph. Just the thought of him kept her warm inside. She opened the door and went in, shedding her wet shoes and dress jacket on the floor. Clarisse looked around for him, hoping he would be in sight. Not to chastize, for her anger was fading fast. She could not stay mad at this man. He was right. She had done nothing but tease him, then denied her feelings for him. She deserved what she got. Still the question lingered in her mind and on her heart, what was she going to do?

His door was partly open, although the only light inside shone dim. Clarisse slipped through the opening, careful to close it behind her. She glanced around, not seeing him. Walking to the fireplace, she made note of the several pictures on the mantle. "Must be his family," she whispered to herself. Then she noticed the main artwork hanging over them. It was her. It was a painting of her, sitting upright under the famous pear tree. "Funny, I don't remember..."

"Your hair is wet, as well as your clothes, you should get dry." Joseph spoke while handing her a towel. His voice was evident with concern. "I have a robe hanging in the bath, go put it on." She took the towel, nodding to him as a thanks.

"Joseph," her voice was low and filled with the love she knew she could no longer deny, "where did that painting come from? I don't remember having that done." She looked to him as she emerged from the bath. He patted the bed, motioning for her to sit beside him.

"I did it, that and several others. Rupert had them hung about the estates."

"YOU did that? Joseph it's wonderful!" She couldn't believe he hid such talent.

"Rupert caught me painting, and asked if I'd paint more. They are scattered about. That one is one of my favorites, so I had it hung here. The other is in my room at the palace. There is one of you and the boys also at the palace, in the main hall to the dining area."

"I had never noticed," she interrupted. Joseph snickered.

"Well, I'm not surprised, with so many it's hard to single out one."

"Why didn't you say something, when did you do this?" Her curiousity was getting the best of her.

"I do it in my free time, I don't like to make a fuss about it, it's just something I like to do. I saw you sitting under that tree one day, and I sketched you. From that, I did this," he motioned toward the painting. "There's one of you in the garden also, it's in one of the conference rooms."

"I had no idea...it's beautiful, if I say so myself." She smiled at him, her anger long gone.

"I wanted to make love to you out there, in the snow." Joseph confided in her. He watched her eyes, this time knowing she truely loved him as well.

"Why didn't you?"

"It would have been a little public, and besides, you deserve a soft, warm bed."

"Like this one," she motioned to his. He nodded, wrapping his arm around her. "I hope you came to stay awhile?"

"Joseph, I'd like nothing better than to love you, right here, right now." She had said it. It felt good, and she was proud of herself. Her lips moved to meet his.

"You're not going to tease me again, are you?" Joseph raised a brow at her.

"No," she smiled, "No more teasing. You realize I'll have to leave before morning?" Her heart sunk at the thought.

"I know, and I understand, love." His hand pulled in her head, aiming her lips for his. "You look so sexy in my robe.." His lips brushed hers. "What I really want is to see you without it." She took his obvious hint and untied the belt herself. His mouth began moving down, from her lips to her chin, to her chest, until he buried his face in her soft belly.

Moving her to the center of his bed, he climbed in next to her, pressing his body into hers. Joseph moaned as she held onto him for life. The closer they seemed to get, the tighter her hold on him became. It was pure bliss, a winter wonderland if he had ever known one.

They made love until the early hours of the morning, when finally Joseph had drifted off. She slipped out of his arms, noticing how innocent he looked as he slept. Clarisse pulled on his robe, not looking forward to leaving him. Tonight they had made love, and she did not want it to end. Smiling, she glanced at him once more, then to the painting of herself. Flicking off the lamp as she walked by it, she left.


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7._

Joseph woke slowly, alone, in an empty bed. He turned onto his back and looked aimlessly at the ceiling., recalling delicious memories of the night before. He could still feel her, still feel how wonderful it was when they touched. Her smell, warm and inviting still lingered in the air of his bedroom. He groaned, he wished he could hold her there - just now.

He didn't think she would have stayed but a hope still niggled. Her pillow was still there, smelling of her, reminding him he'd held her hours before. Her skin, never had he felt skin like that. Never had he kissed a mouth so beautiful.

Her clothes were still scattered on his bedroom floor. He'd lost count of how many times he's imagined that sight, imagined making love to her. No longer did he have to imagine it. How many times they had made love, he didn't know. All he knew was that it was the early hours before he finally drifted. It couldn't have been late when he woke, 6.30 at the most. He felt half-dead, he'd had about four hours sleep but it couldn't stop the thrill, the desire to have it, to feel it again.

He hoped she wanted it, not that the night before had just been something she thought was a one off. He wouldn't be able to deal with that, if the night before had been a quick tumble and shy goodbye. Never could he live with himself if that was the case. He didn't feel as if it where. No, just feeling the electricity and connection that pulsed between them had told him different.

Slowly, he willed himself out of bed and stepping over the scattered clothing, he made his way to the bathroom. He splashed his face with the cool water, reminding himself to shave later on. First, before he could dream of functioning he needed coffee.

He reached for his robe - it wasn't there. He smiled, he'd wondered why she'd left her clothing scattered all over his floor. It made his heart jump, she was wearing his robe. He couldn't help but grin at his own reflection in the mirror, she was actually wearing his clothing.

However, it posed a problem for him. Rummaging in his drawers he pulled put a pair of lounging pants. He never covered his chest, he was in familiar company so he didn't.

When he got to the kitchen the smell of tea and coffee filled his nostrils. She was up, sitting at the table in the centre, a blissful smile gracing the features he adored as she sipped tea. Nothing had ever been more endearing; she was tented in his enormous bathrobe, hair messy, face exhausted but unusually happy.

"Hello," she smiled, looking up at him. Relief swept over him, she wanted to remember, she wanted them to be something and most importantly……he had not imagined it.

"Hello," he smiled, kissing the top of her head.

"Joseph," she whispered, "Not here". Sitting in front of her, he nodded apologetically.

"You left early," he said softly, not wanting to make it sound harsh or questioning, "With my bathrobe."

"Sorry," she smiled, lifting her eyes to him, "I wanted to wear it."

"Ahh, always get what you want."

"Yes," she said, raising an eye brow, "Always."

"Always," he repeated.

"Joseph, about last night…." He swallowed, his breathing and heart coming to a sickening stop as she uttered the words.

"No need," he choked, "It was nothing, right? And if it was, I don't want to hear it." She looked at him, perplexed then angry. How could he think that she was using him? How could he, did she seem that way!

"What?" she said, almost shocked, looking at him with disgust, "NO! god, no! I wanted to say thank you."

"What?" he questioned, puzzled. Thank you? She wanted to say thank you?

"For stopping me, for making me look at you in the sitting room. I would still be avoiding you but I'd be sacrificing my own sanity," she said, laughing wryly as she reached for his hand across the table, "and well, you made me feel alive again." He smiled at her as she stood up, reaching across the table.

He enjoyed that, revelled in it - he made her feel alive.

"Never will last night be a mistake," she whispered, cupping his cheek. "Queens don't make mistakes."

"No, not a Queen," he whispered, turning in and kissing her palm, "Clarisse, my Clarisse."

They stayed, locked in each others gaze, simply enjoying the meagre physical contact they shared in comparison to the evening before. The thudding, elephant - like pounding of boys feet on the stairs brought them, unkindly from their reverie. Clarisse startled, whipping her hand from him as if he had bit, he simply smiled.

"Maybe you can retrieve your bathrobe this evening, from my room," she whispered, a coy smile playing at her face. He smiled slyly, standing up as he exited, passing the boys on his way as they thundered into the kitchen.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The snow, falling in thick sheets was tempting to any young boys who might have access to it, a whole mountain side worth in fact. Pierre and Phillippe wolfed down breakfast, barely lifting their heads from the plate as they noticed how thick the snow had become and how deep they could sink into it.

"Mama!" Pierre suddenly exclaimed, lifting his head from his plate as an idea clearly came into his head, "Mama, play with us today?" She looked at him, bemusement playing at her face as she sipped her tea.

"Play?" she questioned, looking from one son to another.

"Yes!" they nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, play snowball with us?" She laughed, then shook her head. Both of their faces fell immediately and it played on her heart. Never had she imagined playing in the snow, not something she ever wanted to do.

"Ok," she caved, her heart warming at the excitement on their faces, "but no being too harsh on me." They both nodded, clinking there forks on their plates and scraping their chairs from underneath them. Phillippe ran to the door, the turned, smiling at his mother as he scurried toward her.

"Thank you," he smiled, placing a sloppy kiss on her cheek, "Joseph and all of us and you will have a wonderful time."

She laughed slightly, draining the last of her coffee a she stood up.

"Mama, that robe, that's not yours," Pierre said curiously from his spot by the door. Her heart came to a terrific stop, his robe! God, she had forgotten. She fingered the belt consciously, swallowing as she tried to come up with a convincing excuse.

"Ahh, I just found it in my room. It's your fathers, much warmer than mine," she said quickly, nervously rubbing her hands down her side.

"Oh, ok," Pierre smiled, apparently taken in by her lame but believable excuse. He quickly hurried off, his brother in tow. A deep chuckle came from behind them as they exited, heralding a very smug looking Joseph. She glared at him as he entered, dressed and ready for some fun in the snow.

"That wasn't funny," she said sharply, looking him in the eye.

"No," he smiled, mocking seriousness with a cocky grin, "not at all." She smiled reluctantly, shaking her head as she turned to go out.

"I _can _still come for my robe this evening, right?" he said slyly, turning to her. She smiled again, despite wanting to shout at him. Considering he was irresistible, she couldn't get angry at him.

"You can," she smiled, raising an eyebrow, "just make sure the boys don't see it on you."

As she mounted the stairs she couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. Acting like a fifteen year old, lusting about and flirting in such an open climate. She had tried to push to the back of her mind that fact she was married, tried to justify the fact she had slept with another man. But how could she justify that? Yes, her husband, the man she vowed for better or worse was having affairs, but two wrongs certainly didn't make anything right. But guilt; only a little wasn't enough to make her stop, nothing would make her stop. Not now that she'd been with him, felt him, wanted him. Hell she wanted more than that, she wanted to be with him every moment that existed.

Stepping into the shower, she let the scolding water massage her aching body. She closed her eyes against the spray, opening her mouth and taking a deep breath. Enough of pretending she didn't want him had taken its toll and now she had him, she felt she was the most horrid person on earth. In all truth she would have dropped it all, the title, the roles, the regulations to be with him. Yet, in all truth that was impossible. To drop her sons, to drop Rupert who as much was a bad father or husband was also a good friend, was wrong and unfair.

But with Joseph, it wasn't just a bit of fun, it was more than that. It was, well, it was wonderful. It wasn't about sex or pleasure, though neither were lacking. It was just different; it was what she felt with him, not…….oh, she didn't even know how to explain it! It just felt right.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The snow was unbelievably deep as Clarisse steeped into it. The boys had been quick out the door but Joseph had lagged behind with her, traipsing in the thick of the snow.

"You are aware you're risking your health playing snowball fights with these boys," he teased, giving her a side-ways grin.

"Yes," she laughed, pulling on her gloves, "I am very aware of that!"

"Watch!" he suddenly shouted, but not quick enough. The snowball hit her squarely on her chest, covering her in snow.

"I'd wipe it off," Joseph laughed out of earshot of the grinning boys, "but not appropriate." She simply glared as she attempted to brush the snow off but really couldn't help the smile that crept over her face.

Before she knew it she was under attack, mercilessly being hurled with icy snow balls from her sons while her security guard amused himself.

"Joseph!" she reprimanded, trying to look annoyed and failing miserably, "help me!" Trying to contain his laughter, she spat a mouth full of well aimed snow out of her mouth. He nodded through his laughter and picking up snow started to aim at the boys.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

From the tinted windows of the limo the sight was perfect. Christmas card snow, a large lodge with soft lighting and a smoking chimney. A family, or at least what appeared like one tumbling in the snow. Covered, laughing, playing, enjoying each others company. Perhaps Rupert had never noticed it but she looked glowing. Smiling amusedly at her children and Joseph, she looked so contented. No, he didn't love her but he couldn't deny how attractive she was.

His children, children he'd never really wanted, noticed the line of cars snaking its way up the mountain first. Joseph stopped mid-way through creating a snowball to study the approaching cars. He turned to Clarisse, said something and clearly, whatever he said was not welcomed. The fun, the playfulness came to a stop as the cars halted in front of the group of people.

The car door swung open, letting in the chill as Rupert wrapped his coat tighter round himself.

"Hello," he smiled, "Clarisse, children." They stood there, Phillippe partially gaping at his father, disgust on the face of Pierre. Joseph looked very uncomfortable, tugging on the collar of his coat as the nasty silence engulfed them. Clarisse was blank, her face stony and cold.

"Rupert," she smiled, shooting a look at Philippe who closed his mouth immediately.

"Your Majesty," Joseph smiled, "how nice to see you. Come on, let's get inside and get something warm to drink."

Rupert held Clarisse back as the others treaded silently ahead. She looked at him, disgust and something else, something he could have well mistaken as fear coming over her face.

"Clarisse, are you ok?" he questioned, taking her upper arm.

"Fine," she said sharply. "Did the mistress bail out, or are you just here for the view?" She pulled out of his grasp then, moving over the snow quicker so she wasn't near him. He sighed, this was a bad idea, he had know it.

_We like to cause trouble, hence Rupert coming to stay! evil grins_

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_The Authors._


	8. Chapter 8

Watching him from atop the stairs, Clarisse felt a surge of anger course through her veins. Anger at him for coming now, anger at the timing, anger at herself for feeling so guilty. Rupert was not someone she could depend on. She had literally begged him to spend this time with his family. He chose something different, and now, after learning his plans had been ruined, now he decides to join them. Her and the boys were only for show to the world, and for the lineage of the Genovian crown. With Joseph just down the hall, she secretly wished Rupert dead. She had never known just how badly Rupert had shamed her until now. Joseph had made her see what love and respect should be. Yet, she shamed herself with the thought of the affair she was having. But was it an affair? True, she had been married in the eyes of the church and the whole country. In her eyes, it was merely an agreement, printed and signed by both parties. There was nothing holy to it, not between herself and Rupert.

"Rupert," she called from above, "may I speak to you alone, please."

"Speak away..." he replied, not even looking up to her.

"I mean in private."

"There's no one in here..." he motioned around the room.

"Rupert, get your sorry ass up and meet me upstairs, now!" She turned, red-faced and fuming, heading to her suite.

"What the hell..." he growled, pulling himself up from a rather warm and comfortable position. "Women are nothing but trouble," he mumbled to himself, stomping up the staircase.

Pouring herself a small brandy, Clarisse reminded herself not to yell. The boys were just down the hall, and this was something she wanted to keep from Joseph. He would worry about her tonight if he heard arguing, and she wanted to prevent that. Joseph, she was worrying about Joseph. It made her smile.

"It can't be all that bad, you're smiling," he said, shutting the door behind him. "Then again, you're drinking. Damn Clarisse, what is it?" He fell back on the sofa in front of the fire.

"Rupert, I ask that you hear me out before you say anything." Clarisse sat next to him, offering him a drink as well.

"Fair enough. I'll keep my trap shut, for now."

"I wanted you to come with us before we left. I really did, not for me, but for the boys. Regardless of how we feel about each other, they are your children. They deserve to know their father, and more than just five or ten minutes a week. I know you are busy, but Rupert, times like now, you could have come, just for them." Clarisse took a drink, summoning up strength. "I don't want you here. You are right, our marriage is nothing other than a political treaty of some kind. Both of us deserve better, I mean it wasn't right to marry like this, because we were forced to do so. Rupert I love you, I love you in the way that I would a brother or a close friend, but no more. I know it's the same for you. I just had never realized before how much it is affecting both of us. I'm not the same person when I'm away from you. I like that person, Rupert."

"Divorce is scandalous, Clarisse..." Rupert began.

"I'm not finished, and I don't mean divorce. I know we can't do that, besides, I promised you that I would be the best Queen I could be, and that includes being your wife. Am I not?" She looked to him to answer.

"Yes, of course. I've never said any differently."

"Good. I will continue to be, but Rupert, you have to pick up your end with the boys. Starting now." Clarisse looked to him, trying to read his expression.

"They are good boys. I suppose you are right. I just have one question, Clarisse." Rupert looked her in the eyes. "Who is he?"

Feeling her heart begin a race throughout her veins, she swallowed hard, trying to remember if it had been in something she said.

"I know what you are getting at, Clarisse. You want us to be married in the eyes of our country, but live separate lives, much like we do now, only the difference is you want me out of your bed completely." He leaned over to her, getting in her face. "You have a replacement. Who is he, Clarisse?"

"Rupert, I..."

"It may be better if you don't tell me. Clarisse, it's different when a King has an affair, it's expected of me, really. You however, are Queen. Personally I don't care if you sleep with one of the gardeners, but don't you dare," he was stressing his point now, "don't you dare let it go public."

"It's no different Rupert." She glared at him, her anger surfacing again.

"Yes it is, very much so. You will not disgrace me..."

"Disgrace you? What do you think you do to me?" It had started. She needed to cool off, taking a rather large drink this time.

"You heard me, Clarisse." He stood up, began walking toward the door. "I'll leave in the morning, and as you suggested, I'll take the boys with me, spend the time with them. If that's okay with you." He looked to her. "You can spend the winter here, as long as you like, doing it with whom-ever you like," he motioned across the room. "Get it out your system. I want you back as my wife and Queen when you return. I'll leave first thing in the morning, if you agree about the boys, have them ready. Otherwise, this is not debatable." Rupert's words were strong and demanding, and Clarisse knew he meant them. She knew when to drop matters. "Understand?" he asked, as he stood at the door.

"Yes, yes." She hung her head, not sure if she had done the right thing or not. "I'll have the boys ready after breakfast."

"Good. And Clarisse, I believe I already know who. I'll leave him with you, and take the rest." He shut the door loudly, putting an end to more than just their conversation.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Clarisse Renaldi stood just outside the door, waving to the two small hands jutting from a window of one of the limos. True to his word, Rupert had taken the boys, and the rest of the staff back with him. He had left Clarisse with one security guard and a whole lot of thinking. She had spent the majority of last night doing just that. When the line of cars disappeared around the mountain bend, she went back in.

"How did he know?" Clarisse whispered to herself in thought, still pondering the question she had spent most of the night on. She stood in front of the fire, watching the flames.

"The paintings..." he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You heard?" She turned to look at him, a hint of sadness in her voice.

"Yes. I'm sorry, but I had to know what was going on behind that door yesterday," trying to offer some sort of explanation.

Nodding her head, she turned away from him, giving up on the fire and retiring to the large sofa. "How long, Joseph?"

"I say he suspected I had a thing for you, I don't know for sure. Ever since I've been at the palace..." He came to sit beside her, offering her some comfort.

"That long?"

"Yes. Besides, being here, well, I am the only logical choice, Clarisse." It dawned on her, yes Joseph was. He was the only male here, besides the two boys. She had spent the night wondering what it was she had let slip from her own mouth, but in reality it had been nothing she had said. It had been the combination of a few things he saw, and pieced together during her speech yesterday.

Clarisse turned to him, looking in the depths of his dark eyes. "Joseph, I cannot just stop this. I mean we can sleep together, or not, but I cannot stop...I love you."

"I know, I love you too. It's much more complicated than just an affair. We have found what most people look for all their lives, and yet there is something stopping us..."

"No, it will not stop us. I don't want it to stop us, Joseph." She leaned into him, pressing her lips to his, and the kiss became heated, it also became the seal of a great promise.

Kissing her was a great pleasure. It ranked above the greatest pleasures in the world that he could think of. Her arms wrapped around him, held onto him for life. Temptation overcame Joseph, and he pulled back from her.

"Joseph..."

"There was something I wanted to do...we can do now." Joseph took her hand, pulling her up and into his arms. He placed another kiss on her soft, warm and wet lips as he headed out the door.

"Joseph! You are NOT throwing me into the snow again! Joseph, please!" Clarisse yelled in his ear as she tried to squirm out of his arms.

"SHUT up!" With those words he placed his mouth to hers again, silencing the steady rummage of noise. Shifting her a little, he headed back to the snow drift, piled even higher now with the white stuff. Joseph sat her down on the blanket of ice, still holding his mouth to hers. He fell backward, pulling her on top of him as he landed. As their lips broke apart, she squealed something delightful. His mouth assaulted her this time, yearning for the passion that would heat his body from the freezing bed he lay on.

Slowly building to great proportions, the friction between the two had melted a hole in the ice. Clarisse had succumbed to his fantasy, making it one of her own as well. There in the snowdrift, they made love to each other. While the flakes layered them in frosting, they tasted each others, sucking the fluid to support their eternal thirst for each other.

The sound of clapping echoed off the rock and through the valley below them. Startled, Joseph and Clarisse spun their heads about, seeing that it came from one man. Joseph quickly made the arrangements to hide themselves from his view, but it was too late. He had been watching.

"So I was correct. I hope you don't mind, but I just had to see for myself. I have to admit, I didn't expect any action until tonight." Rupert stood before them, a smug grin on his face as he spoke. "My, my Clarisse, I didn't know you had it in you. If I had known sooner, I would have been rougher with you all along." He noticed Joseph's maddening expression. They started to get up. "No, no don't stop on my account. I'll be leaving now, really leaving. I sent the rest ahead of me to the hotel in town." He turned to leave, but stopped in his tracks. Looking back, he spoke, "Nothing to say, my dear? Funny thing, when it was I who was playing the field, you had plenty to say. And now, now you can't find one word?" Rupert's smug grin became one of laughter. He was enjoying himself.

"Your Majesty..." Joseph began, knowing something had to be said, but wasn't sure of what would come to him.

"No need, Joseph. I understand totally, and will not hold it against you. You are a good man, an even better one to put up with my wife's advances. Have fun with her for while. Although I warn you, when she comes back from this trip, she belongs to me again." He left, stomping through the ice, heading back to the limo waiting several hundred feet down the icy mountain road, to the gate.

_Ahahah, we hope you liked!_

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_Yours,_

_The Authors._


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter9. _Oh, this has bad language._

Clarisse sat up as she watched Rupert go, a stunned look gracing her flushed face. Joseph sat up behind her, buttoning up his jeans.

"I belong to no-one," she choked, the strain of holding back tears evident in her voice. He put his hand on her shoulder.

"I can't return to him - I wont. I'm not his whore, I don't want him in my bed!" she cried, tears streaming down her face. The light of the moon made her look eerily white and pale, adding to her helpless appearance. Joseph edged forward, wrapping his arm gently round her and pulling her to rest against him.

"I'm so sorry," he gently whispered. She shook her head vehemently, turning to him with sheer determination in her oceanic eyes.

"Don't apologise, I wanted this."

"You didn't want to do this here, in the snow," he answered, hanging his head. She placed her hand under his chin, tilting his face so she could stare into his ashamed eyes.

"I did," she reassured, "I can't believe his words. I have been nothing but loyal to him. How dare he assume I'm using you for sex, if I wanted that I could screw him!" Her words made him feel sick, he had never seen her so angry, spitting out her words like they were venom. He knew that certainly wasn't her style, he knew she didn't act like Rupert. This was different, but only they could see that.

"Come on," he whispered, shaking his head, " Inside."

The fire place welcomed them, offering heat and warmth into the chilled veins that only minutes ago had been coursing with scorching passion. Clarisse fell into the chair, pulling her legs up to her chin and closing her eyes. He fetched some wine from the kitchen, feeling that something stronger than coffee was in order. He didn't know what to do or what to say. Never had he been caught doing anything like that before but even more, he felt as though he'd shamed her. His hands had been roaming, she was moaning his name and all that time……. God, he felt like a complete idiot. He wouldn't be surprised if he went home unemployed, in fact that seemed like something he could deal with.

Joseph couldn't remember feeling so afraid. Rupert wanted her when they returned but he wouldn't do it and that scared him. He couldn't, not now that she was his. Not now that he had told her. He felt weak, unable to control the shame at being caught. He couldn't stop the overpowering love and want for her. Running away wouldn't help, she was under his skin now. Deeper than ever.

He pulled off his jumper, beginning to feel the heat in the house as he busied himself in the kitchen, avoiding being near her for as long as possible. He was shaking so badly and as the wine bottle fell on the stone floor, sending deep red liquid everywhere he scolded himself for his apparent weakness. Stooping down he picked up the glass. Perhaps because he was shaking, or because he was unaware of his own strength, his blood soon joined the puddles of wine. Clarisse was at the kitchen door in a matter of seconds as he fumbled to pick up the shattered shards of the green glass.

She felt horrendous, seeing him like this. Never had she realised what might happen to him if they were caught. Bending down, she gripped his wrist, preventing him from grasping the glass and lacerating his hands any further.

"Don't," she whispered, "don't ruin those hands." He looked up into her eyes, deep and emotional as she stared back. Dropping the shards onto the floor he nodded and straightened up.

"Lets get this mess cleaned up," she smiled slightly. He looked up at her, a rueful smile flashing quickly across his features.

"Clarisse….," he whispered, facing her, "I can't lose you, but I won't put you through this."

"This," she stressed, stepping nearer him, "is what I want."

"How can you want this?" he questioned, frustrated, "How can you want me when you have all of this country, men who adore you, women who want to be you, a husband -," she held up her hand, shocked by his raging, but nevertheless wanting to explain. She didn't want a long explanation, a perfectly simple one came to mind.

"Because I love you."

Her answer, short, quick, simple was what he needed. His head came crashing to her shoulder as he held her tightly, willing back tears.

He didn't want to love her for fear of her, for the power she had at her finger tips, for the power she held over him alone. It wasn't fair that they should do this to each other, yet in most ways they were getting exactly what they wanted.

Clarisse held him against her, shocked by just how much Rupert's revelations had affected him. His breathing in short gasps, trying to hold back his obvious tears and discomfort.

"Rupert will never have me," she whispered as he raised his head. Relief fell over him, his body shrinking beneath her calming influence. His hands fell to his sides, stepping back to look at her. She turned from him, walking towards the window.

"I should not do this," she whispered, staring out into the wintry scene, "but my heart aches without you. My soul cries out for you, my body screams for your touch. I won't put myself through that, I won't deprive myself of you. My soul doesn't cry for Rupert, my heart doesn't ache, my body certainly doesn't scream out for him. Yet he wants it too, only to suit his selfish wants. I am no ones' puppet, I shall not be controlled and definitely not by Rupert. He may think I am someone who gets around, screws the gardener and if I wanted I could be. Rupert doesn't know how to love, perhaps I don't -"

"You do," he interrupted defensively. "Trust me Clarisse, you do."

She nodded, then continued.

"I think I do, or at least I want to. But he can't, he won't ever and I pity him. He doesn't understand, and in his eyes I'm simply using you for sex, but in my eyes……. maybe I'm selfish," she trailed off turning to face him as he leaned against the wall.

"I know it's not like that and you're not selfish," he answered, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Here, like this," he whispered, motioning with his free hand to their completely secluded surroundings, "we can act like a couple, but back in the world which demands so much more, how can we? Shirking everything, you could never do that. How do we do this outside in the real world. Everyone watching, dancing around each other in a childish game."

"You made the choice to bring yourself into that world when you made love to me," she said, sounding a hell more harsher than she meant to. He paused a moment, tightening his grip on her shoulder.

"A choice I will never regret," he answered sharply, "and if I have to, I'll live with only being near you when it is allowed, when it suits you and I." Her face was painful now, hearing words she hoped wouldn't have come as soon as this.

"I ask you only one thing," he whispered, burying his head in her hair and breathing as his arms wrapped possessively round her upper body. She nodded, tears streaming down her face as she gazed out into the drifting snow.

"Always stay mine, never his. Never let him love you, you belong to me now," he whispered. His voice carried so much love, so much emotion that she buckled under him. She would never break his promise even if she suffered for it.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Clarisse sunk herself into the bubbly water of the monstrously large bath tub, washing the stickiness of the tears from her face. The room was unbelievably steamy, clouding the mirrors and windows and adding to the tiredness that had swept over her. Everything; shame, guilt, love, anger, adoration, hate had had a horrible affect on her. However, as her shoulder came into contact with his hands she felt suddenly at ease and so very languid. He had a miraculous affect over her, his hands working the pent up tension away from her. She sighed and fell against his knee as he perched on the end of the bath.

Joseph had pictured this so many times in his head, so many fantasies and situations with her that had clouded so many of his sleepless nights. And here he was , listening to her breathing, knowing she wanted him, holding her like this. As much as he felt guilt and shame, contentment surged through him, warming his veins. Her tired body lolled against him, a slight moan escaping her lips as his hands moved further down her tense back.

"Join me," she said coyly, the sleep evident in her voice.

"I don't think you can hold out," he chuckled.

"No, you're right," she laughed through a yawn, "Maybe tomorrow."

"It's a deal," he smiled, "You're so tired Clarisse, let's get you into bed."

He moved from behind her, slipping his toned arms under her. She rested against his bare chest, snaking her arms around his neck. He carried her dripping body from her bathroom, onto the towel covered chair in front of the fire in her suite. He dabbed her softly with the extravagantly plush and large bath towel, marvelling at the contentment and rosy flush that spread over her face. Scooping her up, he gently moved her to her bed. Sleep was quickly claiming her tired and exhausted mind.

The evening had taken its toll on her and as Joseph lifted her into bed, flashes of what had happened seemed to evade her. Rupert's face, his pure maliciousness, his gloating made her feel ill. She felt ashamed of the fact but nothing would stop her now, they had went too far.

Joseph lifted the silk sheets, slipping her dry body under them and lifting them to her.

"You'll stay," she whispered, he wasn't quite sure if it was a question or a command, never the less, he intended too. He didn't answer but as he climbed in next to her he could see the smile creeping over her face. He switched off the light and lay, rather confused.

He'd never done this before and he wasn't quite sure where to put his hands or how to lie or what to do. Clarisse could feel his discomfort, the way he lay stiffly on the edge of the bed. She languidly reached for his hand, grasping it. She felt him relax considerably, she smiled at her efforts as he moved nearer her. Her leg slipped over his lower body, coming to rest over him. Her hands found his upper arm and pulling herself even closer to him, she buried her head in his chest. His arms suddenly came alive, wrapping themselves round her, holding her as close as possible.

Joseph found himself in the most comfortable position in the world, one he knew he was made to fit into. He wasn't wary of it, or unsure what to do any longer. He couldn't give this up any more, not now he knew how all of it felt. He couldn't let her go and that frightened him, more than anything he'd ever faced.

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_The Authors_


	10. Chapter 10

Feeling his chest next to her cheek did nothing for her insomnia. She had slept very little, harsh words still crossing her mind from the previous day's events. Clarisse had not moved in his arms, though turmoil tossed and turned in her head. The only peace she knew was resting on him. Even as he slept, Joseph gave her the security and affection she so desperately needed from him. Clinging to him was all she ever needed.

Without even thinking, her body took over. Her lips touched his chest, slowly, softly, and warmly. First once, and then again. Again and again, until she marked a trail to his neck. Burying her face, Clarisse tugged at his skin, nipping away until he stirred beneath her.

Waking to a warm sensation such as this must be illegal. Hell, it was. Yet it was the best of everything, the only true feelings he had ever had came to him from her. She gave them to him openly, and here she was the law. Clarisse Renaldi made him above the law.

Holding her tightly, he gave in to his passion, to her passion. He met her wet lips, cradling them between his own. All thoughts to the outside world vanished as they came alive, digging deeper into each other's soul. Joseph feasted on her mouth, diving deeper and deeper, claiming her treasures for him alone. The warm, slick flesh inside her tickled him, and raised his passion once again, to another level he thought not possible. Yet, it was. Joseph was here, yearning for even more from her once again.

The slightest movement of her hips sent shock waves through him. Joseph pulled her up, resting her directly on top of him. He knew not how long he could stand this, but the sensations she gave him were much too strong to abandon. Feeling her hips, his strong hands began moving them as he tightened his grip. He closed his eyes and settled into her, drowning out everything but Clarisse. She was moaning his name in between the short, quick breaths she drew. Her chest rose and fell unevenly on his, and her stomach even more so with the deepening of her breathing. Her hands had tightened also, from gentle touches to painful squeezes and pinches. Even the rubbing of their legs together made the most beautiful music. Overwhelmingly so, they all travelled the same route inside him; to his head, and from there straight to eternity.

Outside the snow began a massive assault on the ground. From inside the night looked dark and still, and very quiet. Almost in an eerie sort of way. Inside, however, the fire still burned brightly, shading and warming the entire room. The logs would crackle under the heat, while low murmurs and soft moans echoed from the opposite end of the room. The large brass bed, accented with a beautiful lace canopy, softly shook, almost rocking with the rhythm of its' inhabitants.

"Only Snow White has skin so fair.." he whispered into her ear, lazily nuzzling into the side of her neck. He smiled as she shook with laughter. "You think that's funny? It's true, you know. You were born to be a Queen."

"Oh?" was all she managed to say.

"Um hum. I know what you think of the circumstances, what we both think of them, but you were made to be Queen, Clarisse. Not just because you're beautiful, but because you possess the most valuable of qualities inside. You are intelligent, patient, loving, compassionate, and very strong willed." In the dim light of the fire, he found her lips once more, gently placing a soft kiss upon them.

"It sounds so much like a dream coming from you."

"Oh this is no dream love, a fairy tale maybe, but no dream." Joseph squeezed her in his arms. "Now, get some sleep."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

During the night the snow had accumulated, massing around the outside of the windows and doors. Joseph stared out the window in the nook of the kitchen, sipping his coffee. It had been only one day ago when he had laid her on that white blanket, and as good as it felt, it gave him a mixture of emotions now. Taking another sip, he warmed his hands on the cup, thinking how cold his King was to them. They had yet to really discuss the issue at hand. True, they had talked, but the words said amounted to their desires, not what, in reality, they would get.

Joseph was use to being in control; in control of his life, his surroundings, his emotions. In one day he was sure he had lost all that. So he left her sleeping soundly earlier, and made himself a pot of coffee. Coffee helped him think, or so he had always branded it to. It warmed him this morning, and that was enough, for after leaving her side he felt cold. Though he was sure the chill came from someplace other than the winter outside.

He couldn't ask her to leave. He was right last night when he told her she was meant to be Queen. She was. That was not an option, as much as his heart longed for it to be. Joseph couldn't be sure if he would ever see her again, although he had suspicion she would make sure he still held his position once they returned. Where did the boys fit in, if at all, in this?

The steam from the coffee filled his nostrils. Sipping once more, he managed a small smile at the sound of her footsteps behind him. "Good morning."

"Good morning," she said, kissing his cheek from behind. "You're up early." The worry in her voice was evident. She slid in the chair next to him, reaching her hand out to meet with his. "I can, you know." He looked at her, silently questioning her meaning. "Rupert. I can keep him out of my bed." Her tone was full of confidence, yet it lacked in her eyes.

"Yes, you can. But Clarisse, at what cost?"

"I...I don't know. You know I have no idea how Rupert will take to this once we return." She hung her head, watching him fiddle with her fingers. "He isn't really a bad person, you know that."

"I know how he took it when he saw us together, and I know he meant every word he said Clarisse. I've been thinking about it all morning. It's the only time in my life I have ever been out of control."

"Joseph, I'm sorry." Her apology hit him hard. She had, or would never, assume it to be her fault.

"Clarisse, like you said, I chose to be here. I just have to figure out where 'here' is."

"What do you mean?" She looked to him, knowing his thoughts were deep.

"I came out here early this morning hoping to come up with some sort of a solution...something, anything...that would secure our future together."

"And?"

"You're not going to like what I have to say." Clarisse nodded her head, either in agreement or for him to continue, which she wasn't sure.

"Out there in the snow...Clarisse I've never wanted to kill anyone before...not until he spoke to you like that; not until he threatened to take you away from me." Joseph finished the last sip, sat the cup down heavily, and exhaled as if in pure exhaustion.

Clarisse didn't, or couldn't, look at him. Giving herself time to answer, she excused herself, needing her morning tea. She wasn't accustomed to waiting on herself, but this morning was grateful to. She watched him still sitting, not moving, just staring out the ice-encrusted windows. As she poured, her hands began shaking. He had been serious. Without a doubt, Joseph would kill for her. It scared her. Whether because of who he wanted to kill, or because of the powerful love he had for her, she didn't know. After wiping the mess, she took a deep breath and walked back over to him. She pulled her chair closer to his, and sat with her tea in hand.

"I was angry yesterday with him, as angry as I've ever been, Joseph. I'm still angry." She stopped to inhale the aroma meandering in the air. "Joseph, after I speak, I want to hear of this no more." He didn't look at her, he was still transfixed on the ice crystals frozen on the windows. "I love you wholeheartedly, and I hope you understand what I am about to say." This time he lifted his face to hers. She cupped his cheeks with her hands, warmed from her teacup. "Joseph, I know you are serious, and it touches me deeply that you are honest with me. I am his wife, Joseph, and I am his Queen. If something were to happen, I cannot know. I don't want to know..." She hung her head, feeling suddenly heavy with her words. "We may not love each other, but we do have a life together. I cannot just pretend it doesn't exist. I do not wish him dead, nor would I wish death upon anyone. Joseph, if something were to ever happen...please do not let me find out..." She could not finish, but knew she had gotten her point across. Her hands fell from his face. He watched her get up, taking her tea with her. Her words had hit him, where he didn't exactly know.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Since their morning conversation Joseph had been quiet, tip-toeing around her whenever she was near. It's not that he was afraid to speak with her, he just wasn't sure at what to say. The words he spoke earlier had been heavy ones, and although their sounds had long passed, they still weighed the air above them heavy. So Joseph had busied himself about the winter resort, shovelling snow for the most part of the morning. It made him feel better, giving an outlet to most of his frustrations. When finally he allowed himself to re-enter, it had been well past noon and he was literally frozen.

Clarisse had watched him work, chiding herself for not making him come in sooner. When she heard the back door shut, she made for the kitchen, preparing to scold him for staying out so long in the freezing mountain winter wind.

"Joseph, really! You are acting like..." she cut herself off, seeing the ice that had froze to his face. He was white, almost a bluish tint, behind his facial hair which done little to keep his face warm. He didn't move, and she wasn't altogether certain he could. Quickly thinking, she fired the range on high to heat the water in the kettle. Touching his cheek, she realized she had been right. His body was in shock from the cold, and she wondered just how he managed to even come inside. Tugging at his outer winter wear, Clarisse let it fall to the floor, not caring that it would puddle water once it thawed. Right now the material was stiff and hard to move, and had to come off.

"For the love of...I really don't know why you let yourself get like this." She had to say something, hoping it would bring him around, give her some idea as to how badly the hypothermia was. When he didn't answer, she kept speaking to him, not really angry, but more in a motherly way.

"You are so cold, Joseph. I'm heating water for coffee, and as soon as I get you out of these cold clothes, we are going to get you by the fire." This time he managed a slight nod to her, though his body trembled. She stripped him down, knowing he had sweat so much while working that it had eventually turned to ice next to his skin. She had been right. Standing completely naked in the kitchen before her now, she slipped off her jacket, covering his shoulders. It wasn't much at all, but it was all she had until she got him to the sofa.

It had taken several minutes for him to walk through to the large den. Clarisse had guided him in, then took what strength she didn't know she had, and pushed the large sofa ever closer to the fire. "When I get you thawed, Joseph, I'm going to really let you have it," sounding angry now. She let him fall on the soft satin cushions, covering his body with the afghan she kept there for herself. "I'm going upstairs to get more blankets, and then I'll fix you some coffee." His eyes closed, and he still trembled uncontrollably under the cover.

_"The water's warm, come in with me." The smile on her face was brighter than the summer sun. Joseph slipped off his clothes, dropping them on the sand beside hers. Indeed, the water was warm, and he felt a rush of heat as she slid her arms around his neck. _

_"I love you, Joseph. I've never been happier than I am now, here with you. We were right to leave, and I'll never regret it. No one will ever find us here." Looking deep into his eyes, she swept her lips across his, and allowed him to catch her. Soft, warm, and oh, so sensual were his touches. His hands ran along her naked body, floating in the warm current off the eastwardly coast of Australia. _

_"Joseph, tell me about forever." Clarisse loved the words he spoke to her, and they were heavenly coming from his lips._

_"Again?" He already knew the answer even before she nodded. He drew her body closer to his before he spoke. "Forever. We will be together forever, whether here on Earth, or in heaven. Forever I will love you. I will love you with all that I am, with all that I have, and with all that is given me. Forever will be like today, like now. You and I together. There is no force great enough to rip us apart or to destroy our love. It is a love so binding, for it grows so deep within our souls only God himself could have planted it. Sometimes I feel it to be so heavy, and yet I know that I cannot carry it alone, nor you. We must be together. You and I. Clarisse and Joseph. Forever." He rested his head on her shoulder, barely covered with water as the waves washed over her. "I love you, Clarisse. I love you Clarisse. I love you Clarisse..."_

"Joseph, Joseph," she said, shaking him gently, relieved that he was talking now, even if in his dreams. "Sweetheart, I have coffee, you need to drink it."

He heard her words, though still slightly in a daze. Flickering his eyes open, falling upon the flames, Joseph thought to himself how real it had been. His vision coming clear now, he looked to her, sitting on the edge of the sofa, next to him. She held a cup, offering it to him. He nodded, sliding himself up to a half-sitting position, while noticing the pile of blankets she must have wrapped him in earlier.

"Can you hold it yourself now?" Her words were soft, and still full of concern.

"Yeah, I believe so." He nodded to her, accepting the steaming cup.

"Careful, it's scolding." Clarisse felt more at ease at hearing him finally speak. She watched him sip the coffee, holding her hand close to it, afraid of it spilling. "I was worried. I still am a little," watching his hands shake a little.

"I'll be fine, but thank you, for...for everything." Joseph sipped again, feeling the coffee heat his insides.

"I'm not going to say anything, I think you know how stupid that little trick was. Besides, I understand." She took her hand now, cupping his cheek, noting the warmth that had come back in it. "I love you."

"I love you too." Looking much better, and feeling relatively back to normal, he smiled at her. All the tension from earlier now gone, vanished with the ice that clung to him not so long ago.

Their naked bodies lay together, crowded on the sofa, but in complete harmony. He had loved her there, needing her warmth, but most of all her affection. It was quiet, the only sounds were the crackling of the logs under the immense heat of the fire before them. Joseph lay behind her, holding her close, together watching the flames as his head rested on hers.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The antique grandfather chimed seven long tolls. They had awoke an hour ago to the minute now. Clarisse and Joseph sat cuddled together, sharing a large bowl of soup, wrapped up once again in front of the fire.

"Joseph?"

"Hmm?" He let her slip the spoon past his lips.

"You said you loved me?"

"Yes. I do."

"No, I mean earlier when you were still frozen, here on the sofa, dreaming I believe." She tried to explain to him her question.

"I was dreaming." He remembered it so well. "We ran away together."

"You think that was sensible?"

"No, no I don't. It was a dream," he stated, stressing it. "It's something I will remember though, and I hope to dream about more often." Joseph kissed the side of her head, knowing she understood. "Clarisse, can I ask you something?" She looked to him, sipping the soup from the spoon.  
"Of course."

"I've been at the palace awhile now, and I'm probably closer to you than any other. I know you don't like to talk about your family, I mean the family you grew up with. I know you have sisters, but they never visit." Clarisse was nodding now, knowing exactly what he was getting at. She closed her eyes for a second or two, willing the right words to come to her.

"Well, you know my mother past away then," looking to him for acknowledgment. When he nodded, she continued. "I was 12 at the time, the youngest of three, all girls. I remember some of her, I remember life was different then. It was good, we were happy. My father was in Parliament, he changed after she died. I'm not sure why or how, but he did. He was always so full of anger. I think he took allot of it out on us." She stopped, staring into the fire as Joseph took her hand for support. "Did you know that I was not suppose to marry Rupert? It was suppose to be my oldest sister. It was she that my father arranged to marry the prince."

"What happened?" Joseph was intrigued.

"Well, in a nutshell, Rupert refused to marry her because he said she was ugly."

"Ugly? How could anyone related to you be ugly?"

"Ha. I don't think it was so much that as the fact that Rupert didn't like her, or my other sister for that matter. They were spoiled brats, to say the least." Joseph nodded his head in understanding.

"So he chose to marry you?"

"It wasn't that easy. My father had other plans for me, what I'm still not sure of to this day. All I know is that he didn't want me marrying into the royal family for some reason. He was insistent that the Prince marry one of my sisters. Well, the whole thing was kept quiet, although most of the country knew that they were looking for a princess for Rupert. It was during a ball one night that things really started to change." She looked to Joseph before continuing. "Father had made an agreement with the King, and my oldest sister was to marry Rupert. It would be announced in the months to follow. However that night, she did something terrible. Apparently they were made to get to know each other because they were going to be married. They started arguing. Rupert said they were arguing over me. He told Victoria that she would never be as beautiful as I was, and the words became heated and my sister ended up slapping Rupert right there in the ballroom."

"She hit him?" Joseph questioned, knowing the consequences for such an action.

"Yes. However since they were practically engaged, my father somehow managed to talk the King out of any real punishment, well from them anyway. It ended the future engagement, and later that night, or early morning it was when my father finally came home, he whipped her. It was the first time he ever hit any of us. I remember lying awake in bed, hearing him yelling as he came in. His footsteps pounded on the stairs, and the next thing I heard were the strapping sounds coming from across the hall, followed by my sister's screams." Clarisse stopped, taking a deep breath, leaning against him as he finished with their dinner.

"So then you became the Prince's...?"

"No, there's more."

"Please, go on," Joseph gave her a soft look, supporting her in her efforts to unleash her past.

"The next morning at breakfast I wasn't surprised to hear my father announce that my other sister, Rosa, was to marry Rupert. She was all excited about becoming royalty. I remember her bragging about it for days after that. I didn't care, well not much. I mean, I had met Rupert, and he and I had become friends. I liked being at the palace and having the best of everything handed to you. What girl wouldn't? I was more anxious to know what my father had planned for me. I had asked, and all he ever replied was 'In due time, Clarisse.'"

"Must have been hard, not knowing.."

"Yes, it was. I guess I had got into the habit of asking him too many times, because the next, and last, time I asked, it was then that he lost his patience with me. I was the one letting out screams that night as he whipped me." Joseph pulled her closer, holding her tightly against him.

"He whipped you too?" Joseph managed to choke out through the anger boiling inside him.

"Oh yes, that was the first of many. I'll never forget it though. He used one of my grandfather's canes. Well, back to the story. My father sent Victoria away, to England, to a boarding school. She was lucky. She hated me, and I always envied her for getting away from father."

"And Rosa?"

"My other sister was, well, popular with the boys, so to speak. My father never knew this, and had put everything into having Rosa wed to Rupert. One day while at the palace, I was spending time walking the grounds while father was in a meeting. Rupert and I began walking and talking together, and I let it slip; about Rosa being with other boys. I really didn't mean to, it just came out. Rupert and I had became good friends, we talked about everything. It was natural to tell him what was on my mind. That day, Rosa was. Needless to say, Rupert used it, hoping to get out of marrying her."

"He wanted you?"

"No, he had another on his mind. I can't say how he really felt about her, but I knew from the way he spoke about her that he wanted her very much. Yet, Rupert's parents refused because she was not a "proper" girl."

"Hmm." Joseph mumbled, surely knowing what she meant.

"When my father was confronted about Rosa, well, of course he denied it. Then it was ordered that a doctor must examine her."

"Of course."

"So the royal physician was called, and in less than a few minutes my father's plans and dignity blew out with the wind. My father spent two days in his office. When he finally did come out, it was to whip us, both of us. Rosa for being "loose" as he termed it, and me for spilling it to Rupert in the first place."

"Did he send Rosa away too?"

"No, well yes. He sent her to a school for wayward girls, it use to be not far from here. So she was close to home, close enough for father to reach when he became angry again. Needless to say I ruined another relationship with a sister."

"You shouldn't blame yourself, not everything was your fault, the way I see it." Joseph kissed her again, making sure he touched her lips this time. "Tell me the rest?" She nodded.

"Several months later my father and I were called before the royal family. I had never been 'called' upon, and was quite nervous, but almost knew what it meant. I was right. My father was informed that if he accepted the proposal and if for any reason I became "unsuitable" to marry Rupert, then he would lose his position in Parliament, his wealth, and be imprisoned."

"Imprisoned?" Joseph questioned.

"Yes. However, if I did marry Rupert, he would be 'rewarded greatly'. That's how it was termed, but what exactly it meant I never knew. So my father once more agreed. When we got home, he sat me in his office, closing the doors and locking them, making sure none of the staff were looming about. His words were harsh and cold. I remember. He was threatening me. I can't quite remember the words he used, or even some of what he said, but I can still hear the tone he used. From then on I was hardly ever alone. I was forced to...well whatever I did I was forced into. From ballet to speech classes, tea with the Queen. I was even forced to keep quiet most of the time. Needless to say, I rebelled, but that got me nothing but that damn cane again. He always found reasons to use it anyway. My father was set on having me marry Rupert now. I was the last chance for him...and it happened." Clarisse felt lighter, having opened up to him. She had never told anyone, and it had buried itself in her heart. Now it was free.

"Where did that question come from?" Clarisse wondered aloud.

"I just wanted to know how it all came about. The staff talk, you know, and your life before you came to the palace is really unknown to them. Some talk, gossip mostly, the stories changing like the phases of the moon. Someone once asked you about your family, I remember, it was at a formal dinner. You said very little, and what you did say was vague. Then you politely excused yourself. That's when I knew it had to be painful for you." Joseph watched her expression change.

"Yes, I've hid it all these years, only Rupert knew the truth. I believe the only reason he kept quiet about it was because it embarrassed him as well."

"Where's your father now, Clarisse?"

"Dead. I know I shouldn't sound like that, not about my own father, but I do. I'm glad he is. He lived to see my wedding, and a few weeks later died of a stroke. I was happy he didn't live long enough to enjoy his 'reward'." She looked to him for assurance that it was okay to feel that way.

Sure enough, he gave it to her.

"You've never heard from your sisters?"

"No. I have no idea where either of them are, if they are even still alive. If I did, it wouldn't matter. It would be too awkward. I'd like to know them, don't get me wrong, but a lot has passed between us, too much I'm sure for a relationship to be possible." Clarisse shifted her position, making herself more comfortable in his arms. He had warmed completely, and now felt rather hot against her.

"It's your turn." Clarisse looked to him.

"My turn?" Joseph nuzzled her neck.

"Mmm, as good as that feels, it's not getting you off the hook." She sighed at the feelings he aroused in her.

"My turn for what?"

"Tell me a story, about you. Something you've hid from everyone." Her words were soft and they floated through him.

"How do you know there's something?"

"Everyone has something..." She was right. He nodded, taking in a deep breath, and began.

_We hoped you liked it, leave a little review please._

_Yours,_

_The Authors_


	11. Chapter 11

Joseph stilled again before he told her, unsure of how he should broach a subject which could forever jeopardise the relationship he was beginning to forge with the beautiful creature sitting before him.

"I've killed someone", he breathed. She looked at him, tilting her head slightly as she took a sip from the mug cupped in her hands.

"Joseph, it really doesn't surprise me you've killed someone", she said, her voice slightly humoured, " After all, it's part of your job". He could see how uncomfortable she was but now he knew, he couldn't stop. The man he'd murdered had never seen his reward, a reward that had never existed.

"No, Clarisse", he breathed, his eyes proving deep turmoil which alarmed her, " No Clarisse, it wasn't just someone".

"Joseph", she said her eyes getting wide and the secretive smile quickly leaving her face, " Don't scare me like that, I don't want to know, stop here. It was silly to get into this, a stupid conversation".

"No, listen", he said quickly, grabbing her wrist to stop her from moving away from him, "No, you have to listen, I have to tell you".

"Joseph, this is silly". she said shakily, "Please, lets not do this".

"Your father didn't die of a stroke", he whispered suddenly. She stopped, her eyes widening considerably, "I assassinated him".

She moved her mouth to speak but he stopped her.

"Please, let me do this. I was pulled out of the army when I was 23 and head hunted for the secret service", she looked stunned, questioning the existence of the secret service in her country, "Yes, there is a secret service in this country. I was ordered into the agents, badgered and trained into to the highest and I mean, the highest, I could shoot a man blindfolded and still would him so fatally he'd be dead in three seconds". she shuddered and turned away from him, not deeming him quite capable of such monstrous skill. Not his hands, not the had that had made her scream in pleasure and quiver in anticipation. Hands that had loved so warmly could never kill so coldly.

"Go on", she whispered, sliding a little so she no longer sat near him, " If it means this much too you". She felt unbelievably unfeeling at that point, as if she was watching this from outside the window and not part of it.

"I quickly made my way up the ranks, avoiding ever having to hurt someone , or rather murder them. Clarisse, I murdered your father because I was ordered too. He was old, frail and I never had to struggle with him", Joseph pushed on, forcing the words out.

Clarisse couldn't muster any words. She felt sick but surprisingly, not angry. Joseph, the man she had deemed as her protector had protected her for more years than she had ever known. Her fathers death had been an affair so indifferent that she couldn't even remember being upset when his death was announced, or rather his false death.

"Clarisse, I was traumatized after it, that's when they assigned me to the palace. I was told he was simply to be murdered, I was given no reason. I promise, I was given no reason what so ever. I just snuck into his house and poisoned him. The coroner was paid, or threatened to say it was a stroke and it was over ".

"I believe you", she said quietly, " I believe you. I don't - I'm not angry. Oh, Joseph!", she continued, throwing herself into his arms. She had never witnessed a growing man cry before and it was slightly unnerving. What must all of this be doing to him, how could she hurt him like this. His love for her ran so deep he was willing to kill, had killed unbeknown to both of them at the time for her. What was this doing to him, how could she force him to go through this.

" But one thing, who ordered his death?", she questioned, cradling him after his tears had ceased.

Joseph hung his head and gently shook it, the guilt in him subsiding slightly. Never had he told anyone what he had done, never had he intended too. But as he had listened to her, feeling the hate for the man he had held at his mercy all those years ago build up, he felt extreme guilt suddenly. She had been at the mercy of men in power for so long, Joseph himself was in power and never did he ever want her at his mercy, or not to know the real truth.

Clarisse had no doubt as to who had ordered the death of her troublesome father, Rupert's father had forever disliked him and he had the power to see to it without being caught. Her fathers reward had been death, what a horrid reward it was. Rupert would, doubtlessly be aware of her fathers death and this she would use against him, all for the love of the man who sat in front of her.

"I'm sorry", he whispered, " If I had known……… I was forced Clarisse". Josephs eyes glistened with tears and regret and she moved impossibly closer to him. He startled slightly but she just squeezed tighter, holding him to her.

"You've always protected me", she answered, her answer seeming very odd to him. Her face was not the picture of rage he'd expected but serenely knowing, " Joseph you protected me before I even knew it. He would have made my life even more miserable, as much as I loved my father. And of course I know you were only doing your job, if in any other case, I would not understand but you were forced, much like to me".

"Don't you hate me, Clarisse?", he questioned, looking into her eyes, searching the immense depth that was immersed in them.

"Joseph, there is no more room in me for hating anyone, particularly you", she whispered, nuzzling his neck, " God forgive me, I seem so heartless but all I care about is you, all I want is you. Why can't I have you?"

"You have me", he answered, " But I've hurt you, surely this has hurt you".

"Nothing could hurt me more than being without you, nothing. I will have you, because I want you and because I need you. Rupert will never be in my bed or in my thoughts. I'll return and I'll tell him and if he doesn't agree to it, I'll use what you told me to my advantage". He looked at her questioningly, but she shook her head. She wouldn't order anyone to be hurt, but simply telling Rupert she knew would put fear into him, after all, he was a coward.

"You don't need to know, all you need to know is that nothing will change when we return to the palace. You will be by my side day and night, you will share my bed right under his nose, you will continue as you have always done. Minus guilt, Joseph".

"Clarisse, it would be better if I -".

"No!", she commanded gently, digging her nails into the flesh of his bare chest, " no, I need you Joseph. You won't leave and if the worst transpires, it will be me who leaves".

His eyes widened and he shook his head.

" I couldn't Clarisse", he answered, " This is your life".

"You are my life", she countered, tightening her grip on him, " Joseph, you are my life". she sounded so selfish, even to herself. She had two children to consider, a position in society so envied she needed a security guard and yet here she was, promising she'd leave if Rupert did not except their relationship.

"Your dream, your fantasy about running away with me", she whispered, unravelling his body from the cover and kissing his bare chest, " Tell me". He tired to, but as her tongue left a hot web over his skin, he was rendered speechless.

"No, don't", she whispered, sitting on top of him and straddling his legs, he grasped her thighs, hanging his head back as he closed his eyes, " Lets not hope for anything. Lets be happy with what we have, each other and this week, even if we never have anything else". He moaned slightly as she kissed his open mouth, forcing herself impossibly nearer him. Never had he felt anything so wonderful or unnerving. She was controlling everything, taking all of this into her own hands. Her mouth left his, kissing his chest again, her teeth scraping over his skin. He tried to get nearer her but to no avail.

"Nothing", she whispered, in his ear, " Will stop this". His hands moved swiftly into action, pressing her nearer him as she kissed him again and again and again. How badly he wanted her, no matter what the consequences of his actions were.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The following weeks, full of love making and enjoying each others company left them in more of a desperate state than they could ever have foreseen. Returning seemed impossible now and as the snow began to thaw, heralding the beginning of spring it became something they had to face.

Clarisse lay on top of him, his hands gently clasped around her soft stomach. Her head rested, lolling back on his shoulder. His hands wandered freely as they lay in exhaustion, having found it increasingly hard to sleep.

"Tomorrow", she whispered, " I wish it didn't have to come".

"I know", he whispered, squeezing her stomach, " I know already. But Clarisse we have no choice".

She nodded against him, trying to force herself to return was not easy, no matter how much she missed the boys. Yes, she was being unbelievably selfish but nothing could stop how she felt - she had resigned herself to it.

The following day, they woke, quietly packed without speaking, simply sharing a strained word or two over what they should do when they returned, not what they wanted to. Joseph tried hard to talk to her, or hold her or console her, it simply seemed so hard. He couldn't look at her, for fear her love might have changed. yet, in this time were nothing seemed solid that was the only thing he could cling to, the only thing he prayed would never change.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The limo snaked its way through the now thawing snow, like a black beetle running over a white dinner cloth. Everything seemed so uncomfortable in the back seat and Clarisse really couldn't stand it anymore. Leaning over to where he sat, she reached gingerly for his hand. Why did such a gesture seem so hard, after all, she had touched every inch of him, kissed every part of him and yet holding his hand was so utterly impossible. But she mustered the strength, holding onto it with more than enough force.

"Tell me you love me", she whispered, cupping his face and turning it so his eyes met hers.

"I love you", he whispered, taking her hand and kissing her palm.

"I love you too", she answered, a smile flashing gently over her features. Her eyes slipped closed as his hand reached her face, caressing her cheek with such warmth and love. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks and onto his hands.

"Oh, Clarisse", he whispered, wiping away the tears with his thumb, " What is this doing to you, what am I doing to you?"

"Stop trying to justify all of this", she sobbed quietly, " Just promise me you wont leave me".

"I could never……". he gripped her shoulders tightly, so tightly he was almost hurting her, " Listen to me, Clarisse. Never, ever will I leave you". She nodded her head, wilfully accepting his promise.

"I love you, Joseph", she whispered, reaching up and placing her lips on his, " I love you, I love you".

He closed his eyes, willing the tears to go away. Never had anything felt so terrible or blissful against his mouth.

Sitting back, she looked at him, then turned to look out at the quick approaching palace. The sight did not welcome her, perhaps she envisaged it as hell shrunk into luxury and grandeur. Her two children had returned to education in England, without her even having said goodbye. Her husband, a man she had now came to hate and loath stood at the top, apparently marvelling in her return. She felt Joseph physically shrink beside her as they seen Rupert. She turned to him, her eyes stern and forceful.

"I promised you", she whispered, lifting his hand and kissing it, " No other man, not even the man I'm married to".

"You belong to me Clarisse, remember", he whispered, running his finger down her cheek, " My god, Please remember".

_Hope you enjoyed, leave a little review._

_Yours,_

_The Authors_


	12. Chapter 12

Clarisse stepped out of the limo, and out of the woman she had been, and back into the Queen of Genovia. Rupert's boisterous voice was certainly not humble, and to Joseph it was not what he had looked forward to. He tried to dwell on her words, but knowing she had not yet really spoken to Rupert, he wasn't sure how to act. He fiddled with his fingers, wanting something to do, so he grabbed a load of luggage, helping the numerous staff with the chores. He turned with his arms full, just in time to see them disappear into the huge, wide-open doors.

Thankful he had grabbed his own bags, he hurried to his own room. Joseph slammed the door, letting it echo down the corridor. He threw his bags on the floor, hoping that she would remember his words now. Still, his heart felt heavy. Was it that he didn't trust her? No, no that wasn't it. He didn't trust the man she was married to. She may be Queen, but she was Rupert's Queen, and somehow Joseph had a hard time believing that she could hold a candle to him when he became angry. He would have to look after her now more than ever.

Rupert was much like his own father, Joseph remembered the former King. He was all sentimental on the outside, but the inside, on the inside grew hatred and stubborness. Clarisse was right, Rupert wasn't all that bad, but he had enough inside of him to anger Joseph. Joseph had all ideas that it would just get worse before it ever got any better. He wondered now if he was truely prepared. He knew the physical part would be easy, if called for. He would do what he had to, to protect them both. The mental part, well, Joseph was never known for thinking things through when he was pushed. He silently hoped he never would be again.

"You look wonderful." Rupert offered her a hot cup of tea that he had made sure awaited her arrival.

"Thank you. I feel wonderful." Clarisse tried to watch her words, unsure of when to really speak with him. "So tell me, how did it go...with you and the boys, I mean?"

"It went...well, they weren't too happy about being away from you. I expected as much. What can I say? I did try, Clarisse. I guess I cannot make up for years of neglect into one winter season."

"That's an honest answer. I didn't expect that."

"While I'm being honest, I should tell you...I'm sure Phillippe will tell you once he speaks to you anyway. I left for a couple of days, Clarisse. I..."

"I don't want to hear about it, Rupert. Really I don't. I respect your honesty, and am glad you told me, but please, no details." She sipped her tea, hoping she didn't sound too rude, after all, he was making an effort. Rupert nodded his head in understanding.

"And you...did you take care of yourself?" His meaning was underlined in the words. She thought a moment before she could answer.

"The question would be, Rupert, are you going to take care of me?" She looked him in the eye, hoping he would not start the argument that was inevitable. "What I mean is, how are you going to treat me now?"

"I thought we had all this sorted out. You are home now, back where you belong. In my palace, as my Queen, and as my wife." He quickly answered her question, leaving no room for her to butt in. "If you're worried about HIM...he's a damn good security man, he stays. I'm not going to get rid of him or anything." Rupert stood and walked around behind her, giving her the slightest notion to begin worrying. It really began when his hands fell upon her shoulders.

"You tensed," he noticed. "You don't want me to touch you now." He left her room to speak.

"No, I don't."

"I see. He got to you." It was a nasty way to stay it, but he was right, Joseph had gotten to her, in more ways than one. "You brought that back with you, even after I told you not to." Rupert exhaled loudly, squeezing her shoulders. He made her tremble. "Clarisse, I've never hurt you," he said, walking around to face her, "but this is one time when I think you need it." His hand crossed her face quckly, producing a loud, echoing '_pop_'.

His hand had crossed her face, slapped her cheek, pushed her head back, and was gone in one short, swift movement. She saw it all happen before her in slow motion, even before she felt the hard, burning sting it caused.

"Don't you ever, EVER, give me reason to do that again." Rupert stomped off, leaving her alone.

Tears fell freely from her eyes. She couldn't control them. Her face hurt, yes, but she was crying more for the situation she was in than for the hurt he had put on her cheek. She walked to the bath, needing to know how badly it was going to look. Locking the door behind her, she let herself glance in the large mirror. It wasn't bad, at least not now. She wet a cloth with cold water, and applied it to her cheek. It was sore, and swelling, but not bruised, or at least not yet. Clarisse looked at herself, really looked at herself in the mirror. Physical pain she knew she could handle. It was the other kind that made her question herself. It would be so easy to tell Joseph she didn't love him. So easy, and yet, so hard.

0o0o0o0o0o

It had been days since their return, days since he had seen her. Joseph fell back into step with the ordinary, everyday rhythm of his occupation. This was his third time today walking outside, finding himself under her balcony. The doors were shut, and the drapes closed. He looked up at them, worrying at what could be behind them to make her stay inside. Pulling his jacket closer to him as a cold wind hit his face, an idea popped into his mind. He made for the security room with a passion a child has for ice cream.

The room was surprisingly empty. That made it easy for him. Scanning the panel, he found the camera view outside her suite. Joseph turned it off, replacing the monitor with another view, quite similar in some respects. He was quite certain no one would notice, besides, it wouldn't take him long.

The door opened just as he finished, and a rather big man appeared carrying a plate full of cake. Joseph couldn't help but smile. It was Tony. Tony was on duty in here today. No, no one would notice what he did, probably for days now. Tony settled in his chair, propped up his feet, and began feasting on his afternoon snack, offering some to Joseph. Kindly turning the man down, and wondering just how he was going to hold it all, Joseph motioned 'see ya later' and left. By his calculations that man would be sound asleep in less than thirty minutes.

Joseph made a detour by her doors, just to make sure there were guards posted. Indeed, no one had made it too easy for him. Two guards were fully attentive, and Joseph quietly wished Tony had offered them some cake. He glanced at his watch, choosing to ignore the guards, and walked by.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The Queen of Genovia had spent the last three days confined to her bed, insisting she be left alone, even to her maids. In fact, no one had seen her, not even her own husband, whom she had pegged at being a coward by not even having the courage to look at what he did to her. She picked up the hand mirror again, now keeping it on her bedside table, and studied her face, again. It had become a ritual, her picking up the mirror and wishing the bruising would just disappear before her eyes caught sight of it yet again. She let out a loud exhale, replacing the mirror until later, when she would check again.

Ever so quietly, he slipped through her doors, looking around for his angel. It was quiet, too quiet he thought to himself as he headed for her bedroom. He opened the doors, ever so gently, afraid of scaring her, or even worse, walking in on something that would scare him.

Her figure laid across her bed, still dressed in her gown. He could see the rise and fall of her chest, and he had never been so relieved in his life. Joseph shut the door behind him, and moved over to the bed, needing to be near her once again.

"Clarisse..." he whispered, sitting on the side of her bed.

"Joseph? Joseph, how did you get in here?" Clarisse slightly jumped at the surprise, being ashamed and surprised both. She kept her face away from his eyes, but knowing he would eventually see her and the bruise staining her face.

"Clarisse, I was worried. I climbed the balcony, don't worry, I took every precaution. They said you were ill. Somehow I knew differently. Clarisse, look at me, tell me you missed me." Joseph wondered if he had lost her already. He placed his hand on her shoulder. "Clarisse? What has he done? What has he said to you? Please, love, tell me." His words were soft and warming to her, and she felt she could almost cry. "I've missed you so badly."

Clarisse pulled herself up, and somehow found the will to turn towards him. "I've missed you too."

The features on his face tensed as he saw her cheek. He lifted his hand, barely brushing the dark area on her face, almost as if he wanted to dust it off. He nodded, understanding everything now, pushing back his anger until he needed the strength from it.

"You need to eat, you haven't, have you?"

"I'm okay Joseph. It's not as bad as it looks." She felt the slight puffiness herself, avoiding his question.

"I was afraid something like this was going to happen. He didn't let you get very far, did he?" Joseph asked, meaning Rupert had not let her say much.

Clarisse hung her head and replied a simple, "No."

"Clarisse, did he...I know you didn't want to, but if he...it wouldn't be your fault." He had tried to piece together some sort of a sentence or two, but the words had left him, and he wasn't sure what he had said. He shook his head, and resided to hope that she understood his meaning.

"Joseph, ...no, no he hasn't. He's been too much of a coward to even look at me since." She reached for his hand, yearning for his touch.

"It's only a matter of time." He wrapped his hand around hers, squeezing it.

"He'd have to kill me first. I promised you, and myself. I do not intend on breaking that promise." Clarisse looked to his soul, deep in his eyes.

"Would you eat if I brought it up?"

"Yes, but only you. Besides, this will be gone in another day or two." Joseph nodded to her, assuring her he would be the only one who entered her suite.

0o0o0o0o0o

As his anger surfaced, Joseph clenched his fist. He needed an outlet, and soon, before he did something he would later regret. Joseph heard his voice before he even realized where he was. Up ahead was the entrance to Rupert's private office, yet today it was more public, as the door was wide open. Hearing his voice, Joseph envisioned Rupert yelling at her. The daydream was so real, he stood still watching in astonishment as Rupert backhanded her across her face. The anger swelled in massive lava-like qualities, flooding his entire body with a heat that broke him out in a sweat. Without thinking, Joseph drew his fist back, and then laid all the power behind it into the wall outside of Rupert's office.

The wall cracked, and broke, like an eggshell. Trickles of blood ran down the exquisite satin finish. Joseph pulled his fist from the hole he had created as Rupert's words filled the air around him.

"What in the hell?" Rupert's tone was worrisome, and loud enough to wake the entire royal bloodline from their eternal sleep. Several guards approached the scene first, appalled at the sight, not knowing exactly what went on, nor what to do. The King reached his door, and stared at the mess. He looked to Joseph, who was now standing at attention, with blood dripping from his hand. Rupert waved to the guards, dismissing them.

"So, Joseph, this _situation _is more than I had realized."

"I'm afraid so, Your Majesty." Joseph chose not to beat around the bush. When it came to Clarisse, he was an equal, it was man-to-man, and Joseph had every intention of winning, or die trying his damndest.

"I see. You're not afraid of me, I like that. I detest a man who cowers away from me." Rupert motioned toward the dent in the wall. "The wall ran into your fist, Joseph?" Rupert asked, raising a brow.

"I'm afraid so, sire." Joseph was quick with his answer. Staring at this 'sorry excuse for a man' in front of him, Joseph added, "Pity it was the wall."

Rupert's face darkened, motioning for Joseph to join him inside his office. Joseph nodded, ready to take on the world for her.

When the door was slammed and locked, Rupert motioned for him to sit. Joseph, with his hand wrapped inside his shirt, held onto the anger of the pain, drawing from its' strength. Joseph nodded and sat across from him.

"What makes you think you can take my wife away from me?" Rupert was quick to the point.

"Clarisse does not belong to you. True, she is your wife, and Queen, but her heart and soul belongs to me. I have no intention of taking her anyplace. She belongs here, in this palace, and as Queen. It's her bed I am fighting for." Joseph was surprised at the strength he was exhibiting.

"If it's sex you want Joseph, I can assure you there is much better out there than she..." Rupert's chest heaved with laughter.

"No, there is not," Joseph replied with a stubborn seriousness. "You may have had sex with her, but you will never be able to love her, make love to her, and feel it returned."

"You realize I could fire you, hell, I could even banish you from my country," Rupert reminded him.

"You can do unto me anything your heart desires, Your Majesty. However," Joseph sat up straighter, leaning towards him, "you will never be able to rid yourself of my presence in her. You realize, Your Majesty, that I have worked for you, and your father before you, for a short time, but nevertheless, time enough to hold many secrets inside that could ruin you."

"I see," Rupert folded his hands, deep in thought. "You believe threatening me will work."

"I'm not threatening you. Merely reminding you of my job, and many jobs before now." Joseph was hoping he was getting somewhere.

"You know, those 'jobs' you are speaking of, they would most likely hurt you as well, considering you played an active part. Not to mention that I have power and wealth, and I can buy my way out of ANYTHING. A few of those jobs would hurt Clarisse, would they not? Tell me Joseph, have you told her? Does she know who killed her family? Or do I need to inform her?"

"She's knows I killed her father, yes." Joseph fidgeted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the lack of control now.

"How about her sisters? Did you tell her what you had done to her sisters?" Rupert was smiling now, an eerie grin that masked his whole face.

"No. She doesn't know. It wouldn't matter..."

"You think it wouldn't matter," Rupert interrupted. "Then why haven't you told her? Go now, go give her the details of their death. I remember you, hell, you were no older than I was, I remember you having to give the details to my father. You tried to stand proud, but you were disgusted by what you did to them, were you not Joseph?" Rupert stood, needing a stiff drink. He poured two, handing one to Joseph. Joseph accepted, needing it for the pain in his heart if nothing else.

"I didn't like it, no. But it was my duty, and I pledged an oath to your father. I had to keep it."

"It's called honor. I'll give you that much. I'll tell you what, Joseph. I'll make a deal with you, here and now. Clarisse, no matter what you think, does mean something to me. She was the only one I would agree to marry. No, I don't love her, hell I can't say I love any woman. I don't wish to see her hurt; the other day, well I lost my temper. Surely you can understand that." He looked to Joseph for acceptance, and continued. "Joseph, I am King, I cannot have rumors of my wife and Queen having an affair. I won't stand for it." Rupert took another drink, downing the last of his scotch. "The deal is this...You have to tell her what you did to her sisters. In detail, just as you did my father, and in front of me. I need to know that you did not leave anything out. If the love you share is greater than that, then she will forgive you. If she can bring herself to forgive you Joseph, then I will gladly keep my distance. However, she is to be my wife and Queen in public and everyday life here at the palace. Your affair must be kept confidential in every way. The first time a rumor escapes, this deal will be void, and I will take her as my wife again. Understand?" Rupert held out his hand, waiting for Joseph to accept the deal put before him.

"Yes." Joseph shook it, knowing he hadn't a chance in hell of keeping her.

"Good. Now, go get that hand of yours cleaned up, stitched up from the looks of the blood soaking through your shirt. When you're ready, just let me know."


	13. Chapter 13

_My beautiful Clarisse,_

_I promised you when everything in the world seemed like a lie, I would never lie to you. My darling, find it in your heart to forgive me._

_Years ago, more years than I care to remember, I was summoned to the office of the previous king. I had never had dealings with him before, never stepped foot inside this wretched palace - I wish, apart from the love of you, I never had. My job, as you already know, was to serve the Genovian army and secret service. Considering I am Spanish, they were quick to scoop me into their underworld. My dear Clarisse, I never knew I would come across such corrupt dealings, such terrible misdemeanours. _

_I arrived here, more than wary, but eager to serve the king none the less. That was the first time I saw you, wandering arm in arm with His Majesty; that was the first time I felt a tinge of jealousy - that was the night I first committed murder._

_The kings office was much as it is today, I'm sure you know. It still pains me to step in there, I can still see the painfully emotionless faces of the men in the room. The king was there, Rupert, along with Francois Gerard - your father._

_I know now why he was there, I know now that he had asked the King this favour - my darling Clarisse, I had no idea then. _

_I can't remember the rest of the meeting, it was a blur, but as I stepped into the night air I knew what I had to do. I didn't want to hurt anyone Clarisse, but I was ordered to and I followed._

_Your sisters were brought before me by your father, and he stood them in the courtyard. Clarisse my darling, never do I ever want to do it again. Each in turn, I shot in the head. The screams pierced the air, as did their cries and pleading. The blindfolds were removed, as were their bodies. The truth, you must know the truth._

_This makes me a coward, I would have always kept this from you - had it not been for your husband. He threatened me with telling you. It was unbearable enough from the lips of me alone, never mind from the lips of someone else. This is why I'm telling you, this is why I'm telling the truth….this time._

_He promised me and in my madness, I accepted his deal. I tell you this and if you forgive me, he will oversee our relationship - I can never hope for that now. I can only hope you don't hate my very being, I can only hope you will not order the death of me. I would quite happily kill myself._

_I love you, no matter how much I push it away or ignore it, I love you. _

_Oh, Clarisse I didn't want to, from that day on the images plagued me, their screams woke me. It was over quickly my darling... if you can never forgive me, hate me forever; but remember, I only did my duty._

_Forever yours,_

_Joseph. x_

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"….forever yours, Joseph", she whimpered the last lines of the tear smudged letter. She swallowed and swallowed again, leaning against the wall of her room to prop herself up. Why hadn't he told her, why hadn't he…..? Looking at the letter again, images, so graphically explained by him, coursed through her mind. She picked up the rose on the bed where he had left it along with the letter and crumpling the letter up tight she threw it into the fire. She felt immensely ill, the room was suddenly spinning and she swayed her way to the bathroom, hanging over the sink as she was sick countless times. Clutching her stomach, her head swimming, her skin tightening, her throat burning. He had lied to her, how could he!

Tidying herself up, she lifted her head from the sink, wiping her mouth with a wipe and splashed herself with cold water. Now was not the time to be weak. She wanted to kill him, more for lying to her than murdering her sisters. She had never been particularly close to them but he could have told her all of this. And he acted as if they were still alive, gave her the slight hope she might get in contact with them.

He had tried to lull his own guilt, he hadn't managed.

Slamming her fist on the marble counter she let out an " Arghh!" of both frustration, hurt. Betrayal, anger……..so many words.

She resolved to make this, get her own back on both of these men. She would NOT be weak. She would hate her husband forever, that deal had been signed long ago. She wanted to hate Joseph, she wanted to kill him, but as always love overcame hate. She wanted to make him suffer for this but in the back of her mind, his crime he had so committed against her seemed to be dwindling. A terrible thing he had done, definitely,but he had told her, much more than the courtesy Rupert had paid her.

She could feel him touch her, feel him breathing on her and she felt sick, yet she felt what he felt for her. It made no sense to her. She still loved him, for all she wanted to kill him, she still loved him. He had after all, done this to aid their relationship. He had proved the length he would go for her….yet, she couldn't help but want to make him suffer. She had trusted him so much, trusted him to love her, with her deepest secrets, with her.. body. She had given herself to him, in all manners; yet he had lied to her, professed his love but lied to her.

Turning one last time as she looked in the mirror, she knew this was impossible to avoid, she would have to talk to him.

Joseph stared lucidly at the full bottle of whiskey in front of him, he could drink it, get drunk and forget for a while. He didn't have the guts, he just let it sit in front of him as he slouched over the table in the middle of the kitchen, motionless. He had delivered the letter while she had been in a meeting. It had taken him three weeks to write, three weeks he had been tactically avoiding her for. He had done it, partly for his own selfish reasons, partly because he was afraid Rupert would tell her and mostly because he needed to, he needed to because he loved her and he couldn't live with lying to her.

The clicks of soft footsteps pulled him roughly from his thoughts. It was her, she had doubtlessly read it. Standing up quickly, he ran for the other door but she was already there. He felt her eyes burning his back as he ran like a coward. He turned slowly and his eyes met hers, coldly. The love that had been ever present in her eyes for him had dulled, if only a little.

"I wanted to speak to you, Joseph", she said softly. Her tone was gentle and it just managed to heighten his sense of guilt more.

"I need to speak to you", she whispered again, sitting down at the table and motioning with her hand to the seat across. He stared at the chair for a moment, as if it might bite him if he sat.

"Please".

He sat, swallowing slightly as he did so and nodded. He could not look at her, it was near impossible.

She reached across the table, taking the two rough hands of his resting on the surface. His eyes shot to hers and for a moment, questions flashed through them.

"Joseph", she whispered softly, her tone more hurt than angry, " Joseph, I hate you for this".

"he nodded, trying to pull his hands from her, she refused to let go, gripping them.

"But as much as I try", she swallowed, her eyes swimming with tears, " As much as I hate you, I love you more".

"Clarisse", he said forcefully, " Hate me! You can't love me, I don't …. I never…."

"Stop", she implored softly, " Stop this, I love you! It will take me years to forgive you, not for killing them but for lying to me. You lied to me, do you understand how much that hurt me?"

Her tone was so painful and he was angry at her for it. Couldn't she just shout at him, get so very angry. Why did she have to be diplomatic about it! And it must hurt, he had killed nearly every member of her family and she said it didn't hurt…..

"Clarisse, why aren't you angry! Get angry at me, hit me, go on, get so unbelievably angry", he begged.

"If I did that, it would only make you feel better", she commented quietly, looking into his eyes.

"I only did it because of your father and the King and Rup-", he tired to tell her, she nodded and quickly disrupted him. He was trying to justify it, but it seemed all but impossible.

"Fuck Rupert!", she said suddenly, her tone rising this time " I don't care about him! All I care about is this, me and you! This isn't about him, this is about you and I…..this is about how much I want, love you! Hell, Joseph…I need you!". She threw herself at him from where she sat, tears tumbling gently down her face.

"Just don't", she choked, "Promise me you'll never lie to me, ever Joseph. promise me?".

He gripped her tightly, clinging to her for strength. He wanted to forget all this, he wanted to take her away from all of this. He wanted her so much yet he had lied to her, he had broken her trust.

Clarisse waited what seemed like eternity for his answer, as if it might never come as they stood there in the kitchen, gripping each other.

"I promise you", he vowed quietly, gripping the sides of her face and looking into her eyes, " I promise you".

Clarisse couldn't push back the torrent of tears slipping down her face.

"We'll tell him", she whispered suddenly, her eyes burning with determination, " Rupert, I mean".

Joseph nodded, his hand coming to rest at the nape of her neck as he drew her mouth nearer to his.

In a setting like they were, it was neither the most intelligent or wisest thing to do but it was all he could do. He needed her strength, something which seemed to accompany her kisses. Devouring her mouth seemed to be an escape into his very own paradise. He had thought he'd never love again after what he had done; unintentionally hurting her. Yet here she was , giving him life and he would take it and enjoy it and revel in it. He would revel in this life and love…he would revel in her.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Rupert looked up from the file before him. Seeing Clarisse and Joseph enter together, he took off his glasses and leaned back into his leather chair.

"Why is it that I do not like the look on your faces?" Rupert made the move to speak first as the two sat across from him. "Leave us please, and make sure there are no interruptions," he spoke directly to the two aides he had called upon earlier.

Waiting for the two to leave, Clarisse took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. The worst was over, she tried telling herself, nothing else bad can happen. She looked to Joseph, who sat beside her almost as nervous as she was.

Rupert looked to Joseph first, not speaking, but somehow relating to him that he knew he had finally told her.

"Yes, I told her," Joseph answered quickly and to the point. Rupert nodded.

"I had you pegged as one who would, Joseph. I must admit, you had me worried, it took you long enough." Rupert was honest with the man before him. "What I mean is that you are a strong man, Joseph. If anyone were to want my wife, I would want him to be like you." He glanced over at his wife and Queen, seeing the quite shocked expression on her face. "Clarisse, you almost want to make me laugh. I had to ask him to do that...I had to see at what length his love for you runs. Can you understand that?"

"Rupert...What difference does it make to you? I mean why do you care? I don't understand." Clarisse was left rather dumbstruck, fiddling with her own fingers as she awaited his answer.

"I think Joseph here does..," Rupert motioned to the quiet man in black. "I know I can be an ass, Clarisse. Hell, I am one most of the time. I think my father instilled that in me from the time I was born. I am, however, for the most part, still my own man. I love you Clarisse, not like Joseph here, but nevertheless, I do. I can't let just anyone have you Clarisse. It would kill me to see you act the way I do. I've known Joseph here for a rather long time, and I am certain he will take care of you. I just needed to know if he really loved you." Rupert hung his head, almost as if he had shamed himself.

Clarisse stood, walking to the picture window, unsure as to how to respond to Rupert's unsuspected speech. Never had she realized how much her husband did care for her. Was it true? He seemed to be very level-headed at the moment. His intentions seemed to be good. He was handling this very decent. She turned to him, walked over and let her arms slip around him.

When she finally let Rupert go, she placed a soft kiss on his cheek. Clarisse nodded to him, adding softly, "You meant that, didn't you?"

"Yes, my dear Clarisse, I did." Rupert kissed her again, on her other cheek. "Now, if you and Joseph still wish to continue your relationship, we need to talk about it. I know it's not going to be a popular subject between us, but we need to establish some kind of ...well, some kind of way for the two of you to be together, in secrecy." Rupert let out a loud sigh, realizing it may be harder than he had first suspected.

"Your Majesty.." Joseph started, but was cut off by Rupert.

"_Rupert_, Joseph,_ Rupert_. If you're going to be intimate with Clarisse, the least you can do is call me Rupert. When we are like this anyway...and to make this whole deal work, it looks like we will be quite often." Joseph nodded, quite taken aback himself by the sudden transformation of his King's personality.

"Very well, Rupert. I know the security in the palace as good as anyone. If anyone can get around it, it would be me."

"Right you are. Joseph, why don't you take the rest of the day and figure out just how to do that. In the meantime I have a little something of my own to look into..." he trailed off.

0o0o0o0o

An hour later Clarisse found herself alone, sipping tea in one of the many studies that could be found throughout the palace. This one she liked, more so than the others. It had a woman's touch, and surely Rupert's mother had it decorated to her liking. She had known the previous Queen since she had been just a small girl. Smiling to herself, thinking of all the times they had kept each other company; they had shared the delights of afternoon teas on more than one occasion. Even before she was promised to Rupert, Clarisse had found herself giving the Queen an afternoon laugh. It was a time they both very much looked forward to, a time they could enjoy themselves, a light-hearted time.

Things changed when she became the future princess. Clarisse felt the weight of it now, even more so. It had been a time when her days were planned for her, right down to her evening bath. Tea with the Queen had become a ritual by then, but it was no longer a time for laughter. The betrothal had turned Clarisse from a young light-hearted girl to a serious, proper, heavy-hearted young woman in a matter of days. Clarisse still loved her Queen. It was just she that had been made different, and neither one of them could enjoy their time together anymore. It had become a time of learning for her, just as her schooling had been, maybe even more so.

In thinking of the former Queen, Clarisse's mind ran through the events of the past six months. They had been a time of heavy burden on her also; a time of change that would effect her whole world. As she sipped the warm liquid, she realized it may pan out for the better now. Rupert's words had been rather hard to believe earlier, yet now as she sat, it all fell into place. Rupert had spoke the truth to her. She had known that all along. It was her own guilty conscience that had made her question it.

Clarisse suddenly realized that Rupert had always been honest with her. He never faltered in telling her of anything, whether it be something he knew she wouldn't like or not. He had trusted her to understand. He depended on their friendship, as much as he depended on her as his Queen. It had never even occurred to Clarisse to just tell Rupert she was in love with Joseph. She had tried to hide it, tried to cover up for herself. If Rupert had gotten angry, well he had reason to. She could have come out and told him...but she did not.

Snow; she giggled to herself, picturing Rupert watching at the sidelines. She understood now why he had to do it. It even became clear to her that maybe even he enjoyed the view of her with Joseph. Maybe one day she might even ask...No, she needed to be honest with him. She would ask, that and so many more questions she had wanted to know and then she would tell him her secrets, all of them, what few there was left. She didn't have to loose a friend over this. She didn't want to.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

The small four-wheel drive vehicle sped along the dirt path, barely able to spare the two passengers from overgrown tree limbs and vines. The path had not been used as a main thoroughfare by no means. Joseph sat behind the wheel, although the passenger was doing the driving for the most part.

"Joseph, watch that tree!" Rupert yelled, getting smacked on his shoulder once more as the limb bounced off the front roll-over bar and landed on him.

"I'm sorry, we could get out and walk..."  
"No, no, no...it's too far."

"Just where are we going?" Joseph was intrigued now, speeding down an ancient horse-and-buggy road. He knew it ended several miles down, to where the cliff dropped off once again to the sea. He could think of no reason to go down here, other than for security reasons. He knew no cameras were posted there, but that the cliff was viewed from below.

"Just up ahead, you'll see," Rupert smiled to himself. He hadn't had such a good idea in years. It made him proud to know he still could. Hell, if the thought had ever occurred to him before, he would have used it himself. It was right to give it to her, to his best friend. It would make her happy. She had not been really happy in such a long time. She deserved it.

0o0o0o0o0o

She had done it. She had made herself sick of tea. Clarisse remembered the former Queen having the same problem. They had both loved it, and would drink it to no end...until it made it them sick. She sat her empty cup down, chiding herself for drinking two pots by herself at once. Now it would be days before she could bring herself to pick up another cup. The last time she had done this, it was two weeks before she could think of tea without making herself sick.

Clarisse found herself making her way to her suite, eager to lie down a few moments. It was a slow day at the palace, and Rupert had taken care of much of the work earlier, so nothing prohibited her from relaxing for awhile. She made her intentions known to the few maids she passed, hoping they would pass the word to not interrupt her.

Passing the doors to Rupert's suite, Clarisse wondered where he and Joseph had ran off to. If not for their earlier conversation, she would have asked the guards. It was most certain to her that they had not gone far, especially since they remained silent to her. Reaching her doors, watching them open before her, she wondered if it would not have been easier to just have one of them to worry about. She chuckled to herself, holding her stomach which disagreed with the movements.

She snuggled under a blanket, finding herself warm and cosy. Joseph came to mind, filling her senses with security. The worrisome in her heart had disappeared, along with the ice cold walls that had loomed in the palace for months. She had not felt so content, really content in such a long time. Her breathing slowed as her eyes closed, leaving her nothing to do but sleep.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

Stepping out of the vehicle, King Rupert nodded his head, holding up his arms as he looked to Joseph.

"Well, what do you think?"

"Ahh, the old servants quarters?" Joseph wasn't sure what Rupert was thinking, but he was praying to the God above that he wasn't suppose to move into that old building.

Joseph had forgotten about the old building that still stood in the woods only meters from the cliff. It had seen better days, and even in those days it wasn't much. It had housed maybe 30 or so of the servants who chose to live on the palace grounds, although living in town may have been closer to the palace itself. The wood was worn, stained white from the sun and sea salt. The roof needed replacing, the windows were tinted white as well. Several of the main porch beams had rotted in two, falling to the ground, leaving the overhang of the roof indeed hanging. The stone chimney seemed strong, still standing straight and towering above the V-line of the roof. A smaller one was covered in vine, obviously coming from what use to be the kitchen area. It was humble, but definitely not too small. It was rather large, and somehow looked more like a barn than a home.

The boards squeaked as Rupert stepped on them, banging his foot to see if it would fall through.

"It's still holding up pretty well," Rupert stated looking to Joseph. "Joseph, don't you have any imagination...I would think that for someone who had Clarisse out in the snow...you could picture the possibilities," Rupert let out a hardy laugh. "Let me show you the inside." Rupert motioned to him.

"It needs a lot of work, I'll give it that," Joseph sighed.

"Yes, but think of it...it's on palace grounds, but out of the way. It's private, so very private, and you can add to that in ways I cannot think of...It's hidden...No one knows it's here, except you and I and Della and Franklin."

"Della and Franklin?" Joseph asked, knowing the two older servants who had worked for Rupert's parents.

"Yes...they grew up in this very place. It looked better then, with folks living in it. They can help with the remodelling and upkeep. You may even want someone to stay out here permanently, help I mean. That's up to you and Clarisse. It does need lots of work, but look Joseph...look at that view, the staircase, the details on that rail was handmade. If I'm not mistaken, there's a room with four windows upstairs that overlooks the cliff. Magnificent."

Joseph looked around, finding Rupert to be correct about it all. It did need work, and lots of it. Clarisse would be worth it, however. She would love it.

"It does need allot of work. It probably would be best to have someone live here permanently. I could make security work around it. It's on the palace grounds, but not close to the palace. It's private...Hmmm." Joseph sighed.

"Clarisse will love it." Rupert nodded to him.

"Yes, she would."

"She deserves to be happy, Joseph. Her life hasn't been easy. Despite what you may think about me sometimes, I do care for her, very much so. I want her happy." Rupert walked over to a window, clouded with dust and cobwebs, straining to see the view.

"Yes, well that's something we have in common." Joseph traced his finger down a crevice on the mantle of the main fireplace. "I want to do most of it myself," he announced.

"Yourself? Joseph this is major renovation..."Rupert started.

"Yes, but I need to give something to her..."Joseph replied. Rupert nodded his head, knowing he was doing the right thing for them.

"Very well. Anything you want or need...bill the palace, after all it is for Clarisse. Lord that woman costs money," Rupert let out a hardy laugh, Joseph soon joining him.

"I'd like for this to be kept quiet, for now. I'd like to surprise her."

"It'll take months Joseph...are you sure?"  
"Yes. In the meantime, we'll just have to keep things under wraps."  
"Use my door...the adjoining door to Clarisse's suite, until you finish here. No one will suspect anything. When I'm entertaining...I simply shut my bedroom door. You won't be bothering me." Rupert announced, knowing it had crossed Joseph's mind already.

Joseph thought for a moment. The door was on the opposite end of Rupert's suite, on the wall next to the balcony. He would just peek in before entering, to make sure Rupert didn't use any other place besides his bed. He nodded to Rupert, motioning for them to leave, after all they would be missed.

Settling back into the driver's seat, Joseph looked at the building one last time. The more he looked, the more the wooden structure had possibilities.

"Clarisse will love it, Joseph," Rupert assured him. "And don't worry about the boys, they never come out this way. They came here once, and decided it was boring. Besides, they are growing up, at school most of the time, or travelling themselves someplace now."

"Oh, to that there is no doubt. I was just thinking, it will take a lot of work. It's not the work that bothers me, it's the time."

"I see." Rupert thought for a minute. "I can help when you're on duty, give you an assignment of some sort, and you can spend the time out here. If you do want to house servants out here permanently, then I can order you to be the overseer of the job, but that is up to you. Or we could always say that I wanted it redone for myself. However Clarisse would hear of that. Now, Clarisse is a different story. Getting something by her is a real job. I will help you all I can; all I can say is 'good luck' when it comes to her."

Joseph shifted the all-terrain vehicle in gear and turned it around, heading back out on the narrow winding path through the woods. The weight of the job ahead was heavy, but he found it to be exciting. If he could concentrate on her face, on that beautiful angelic face looking upon his finished work, then maybe it would go by faster. He knew it would cause him to work quicker. Right now he longed to touch her, knowing she was alone back at the palace. Taking a deep breath at the thought of her, his foot became heavy on the pedal as his arm shifted into high gear. Yes, he wanted her now.

Rupert watched the expressions change on Joseph's face. He could almost tell what he was thinking, and as the little vehicle sped up, he was sure Joseph was anxious to return to Clarisse. True, he wasn't angry at them, but he was envious. Envious at their relationship. He had all the women he could dream of, and yet not one of them suited him. They changed in his life like the staffing at the palace, maybe even more so. He wondered if he'd ever find one that would make him act like Joseph did when it came to Clarisse.


	15. Chapter 15

It seemed to take an eternity for the two men to reach the palace. When eventually they did, they were lucky enough to escape a violent thunder storm that had forced itself over the country. However dismal the weather, Joseph was absolutely oblivious - all he wanted was to see her. Quickly leaving the King, or Rupert as he was now calling him, he tried to dodge the security men who wanted to speak to him or the maids that wanted to flirt. Rushing to her suite, was, in hindsight a rather blatant and obvious thing to do but right now, that really didn't matter. He could feel his body heating up, just at the thought of her - improper thoughts about his monarch. Yet, she was so much more than that and those thoughts, they were proper now. Coming to her door, he faked on hearing a disturbance to the young, gullible guard guarding her door and the spotty faced youth scurried off to check the 'disturbance'. Joseph surveyed the corridor for a moment, then deciding it was safe slipped into her room.

His nostrils filled with the sweet, flowery scent of her and immediately he became heady. Trying to control himself, he sucked in a breath of the sweet air and started towards her bedroom.

The sight that welcomed him made it worse, well the persistent bulge in his trousers anyway. Her bed was rumpled, evidence of her having slept in it. Her clothes lay discarded on the floor and from over the spray of the shower in the adjoining bathroom, he could just make out her humming to herself. He licked his lips and proceeded to unbuckle his belt as he entered the shower room.

The ceramic tiles and marble were slippery from the moisture that coated them, dripping in small droplets in the thick air of the room. He watched her silhouette through the frosted glass of the massive shower for a moment and licked his lips again, registering every shadowy curve of her body, filing them in his memory.

He swallowed slightly, trying to breath and relieving himself of all his clothing, he pulled open the glass partition and slipped in behind her.

She jumped quickly, a scream escaping her mouth as she swivelled to face him. He chuckled slightly as her face became a picture of anger but humoured none the less.

"you would think you were being murdered", he laughed over the spray.

"Tell me", she said regally, with a flirty bat of her eye lashes, " Just what is my head of security doing in the shower with me?"

"He wants to ravish you", he laughed, pressing her up against the glass. She ran her hand down the riveted muscles of his chest.

"Mhmm", she confirmed, tipping her head back as his lips came into contact with her neck, " I've never been ravished with fear in my life!"

"No?", he murmured, smiling as she shivered against him.

"No", she managed, moaning slightly.

"Well, lets not waste ANY time".

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Summer came over the palace, bringing with it a load worth of sweet pears, butter-balls of sun in the blue sky and the hottest summer the country had witnessed in years. Joseph had spent most, well all of his free time at their hide away. Physical labour had always been something that he was used to and this he revelled in. perhaps it was the thought she'd love this place was even more of a drive. Mopping the sweat of his brow with a grimy hand he heaved a sac of slate tiles up the ladder. Setting them down in the gutter he began working, wishing the reality of this place would transpire far quicker.

The sun was beating down on his bare back, burning him in all honesty. He was starting work in a few hours and already he was exhausted. Slating in the last tile he dismounted the ladder and taking a few strides back and shielding his eyes from the sun, he surveyed his work with a smile. Yes, he was proud of it. The place looked inhabitable now, well at least the outside did. The inside, however, was something else. That would only take a few weeks though, most of the work had been done now. Rolling his stiff, burnt neck a little, he tidied away the industrial mess and carefully slipping on his t-shirt, mounted his motor bike.

Clarisse watched as her head of security's motor bike sped past the gazebo where she sat with the German diplomat who was, well, quite frankly putting both her and Rupert asleep. The boys, who had managed to find an excuse to run away a good hour ago where to be seen chasing each other with those damn water pistols Rupert had bought them.

"….Your Majesty?", the German said with his thick accent, leaning in from the side of her, " Do you agree?"

"Err", she looked at Rupert, who looked just as stumped, " If you'd forgive me, I feel rather ill".

Her eyes followed the zooming flash of the black motor bike into the garages at the far end of the grounds and, looking towards her company, she addressed them.

"I have to excuse myself, I feel very ill", she said, eying Rupert. He nodded, smiling slightly.

Standing up, she brushed the front of her dress as the two men stood up in the presence of a lady. She smiled at both and turning on her heels headed for the garage.

It was stiflingly hot in there, with all the metal of limos and vintage cars and motor bikes. It reeked of oil and petrol and grease and Clarisse felt rather claustrophobic as she stepped into the dull bike house. He was standing lovingly over his bike, polishing the paint work. She chucked a little to herself, he treated that bike a little like he treated her.

"Joseph", she smiled after a while, leaning on the only semi clean surface she could find.

"Oh, hello Your Majesty", he answered, looking about to check if they were on their own.

"We're alone", she smiled wickedly.

"Ah, I see", he answered, dropping the cloth and sauntering over to her.

"Yes, I'm sure you do", she laughed, settling herself on the bonnet of one of the limos, " But all I can do is kiss you just now". His face dropped a little, and he pouted.

"But I….". he trailed off, running his hand down her leg.

"No, no", she giggled, " No!"

"Tonight, I'll come by. I have something for you", he suddenly whispered, his tone becoming more sentimental.

"Be careful when you do", she said quietly, kissing his cheek as she turned to go, " Don't get caught".

"I wont".

She stepped out into the sun and as she did so, a terrible wave of diziness came over her. Her eyes blurred had she felt terribly cold. Swaying a little, she tried to walk forward but to no avail, she fell to the gravel with a horrible crunch and her eyes slid shut.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

* * *

"There's nothing whatsoever wrong with me!" Clarisse sat up straight in her bed, red-faced and angry with the two men and two maids trying to pamper her mercilessly. 

"THAT'S exactly what's wrong with you, Clarisse!" Rupert bellowed back at her. "You have to relax, take it easy. Damn woman, you can be stubborn."

"But I feel fine now," she whined, turning on her Queenly charms that no man could ever resist.

"AH, I see. Well you did not feel so fine an hour or so ago, now did you?"

"It was the heat, that's all"

"Yes it was, along with your family's history of high blood pressure, not to mention the stress levels around here. Clarisse, my darling, you HAVE to learn to relax." Rupert threw up his arms, looking to Joseph to help him pound some sense in this woman.

"Your Majesty, please, listen to the doctor." Joseph sat next to her in a chair, holding back the feelings he felt, wanting to hold her and comfort her. He knew she was scared. Inside that facade of hers was a woman who was frightened at the helpless feeling it had left her with earlier.

"Joseph, really, I'm fine." Clarisse tried to sound convincing, even to herself.

"I know what you need," Rupert slid himself beside her on the bed. "You need to get away for a while."

"GO AWAY!" Clarisse let out her anger once more. "You're sending me AWAY?"

"Calm down Clarisse. You're going to make yourself sick again. You need some peace and quiet, just for a little while, my dear." Rupert looked to Joseph, who was nodding directly to him.

"He's right, Your Majesty. You do need a break." Joseph hated to say it, but Rupert was right. She needed some time alone, away from everything, including him. The thought of the idea made his heart hurt, but it would be the best for her. He was certain he wanted the best for her.

Clarisse looked to Joseph, her love and lover, then to Rupert, her husband and friend. Maybe she did need some time to herself. Just the idea of having both of them was confusing to her. Maybe it was taking its toll on her body, along with being Queen. It would be hard leaving, but it was even harder to stay right now. She had not been able to bring herself to handle the situation properly, if even there was a way. Oh, she loved Joseph, and worried over him night and day. Then Rupert, who was always demanding of her in one way or another, and she wanted to please him as well. Then her boys, oh how she missed her beloved boys. First and foremost, her duties as Queen always kept her busy. Yes, leaving would be hard, but staying right now may just kill her. After all, she was just a woman underneath it all, very much human and perishable.

She looked to Rupert, who took her hand softly, then to Joseph who could do nothing but give her that soft, worried look. Silently she began to nod, closing her eyes, hoping she was making the right decision.

"Alright, but PLEASE promise me this will not get into the media. That I cannot handle."

"I'll take care of it. Go visit the boys, take some time and go anywhere you like..." Rupert trailed off.

"Yes, that's a wonderful idea. They'd be delighted to see you," Joseph added. He sounded convincing enough, although he was already missing her.

"Go anywhere you like, Clarisse. Take a month or two. It will do you good. I'll take care of things here, don't worry. I'll simply tell the truth, you're visiting with the boys." Rupert tried to reassure her that everything would be fine without her. "Not that we won't miss you, don't get me wrong. I know you have a heavy load here, Clarisse. However, you'll be no good to anyone if you are not well," he added, very seriously.

"I'll arrange for the trip, and security for you." Clarisse quickly turned to him, a scared look on her face.

"You're not going?"

"No, I'm sorry, but I cannot. Besides, I am needed here right now." Joseph tried to sound professional, knowing the maids were in earshot.

"I need him here Clarisse. It will be fine, there are plenty of men to keep you safe." Rupert looked around for the maids, then whispered, "Besides Clarisse, you need time alone, even away from Joseph right now." Clarisse nodded, knowing he was right. Still it felt like they were being torn apart for good, the pain weighing heavy in her heart. Surely that could not be good for her either.

"Josephine!" Rupert called. "Please pack Clarisse's belongings, enough for a month or two. She needs to get away by herself for awhile, and I'd like it, and so would she, I know, if you would join her on the trip." Rupert looked to the maid who had become a close friend to Clarisse now.

"Yes, Your Majesty, I'd love to join her. Don't worry about a thing, I'll take good care of her. I'll have her packed and ready to leave in a few hours." Josephine turned to go, but was halted by Rupert.

"And Josephine, please, not a word to anyone about this. Clarisse is simply going to see the boys."

"Of course. I understand." Josephine ran off, eager to pack for the trip.

"Now, I'm going to get Rachel here to help you with your bath and getting you dressed and such. We'll see you before you leave, Clarisse." Rupert placed a simple kiss to her cheek, trying to make her smile before making his exit.

"Very well." Clarisse watched Rupert slip off her bed, and then Joseph as he stood up from the chair. She couldn't think of anything to say to him, anything that she could say right now in front of the maid. Actually all she wanted was for him to hold her. Maybe it would be better like this, not being able to talk and touch before she left. Clarisse wasn't sure if she could handle saying goodbye to him.

"We'll see you downstairs," Joseph reminded her as he followed Rupert out, winking to her as he closed her door. That made her smile.

Following the corridor to the main staircase, Joseph was full of unanswered questions and heartache. Looking to Rupert, Joseph could see he had a few of his own. He had never realized until now how hard it must be for Clarisse, to be married to one man, and in love with another; not to mention they both were under one roof and cared very much for her. It was a complicated situation. He hated knowing he was giving her grief of any kind, yet he knew that the love they shared would make up for it somehow.

"You think she will be alright?" Joseph finally asked.

"I was asking myself the same question, Joseph. I wish we could have all the answers. I didn't realize how hard things have been on her lately, but now I understand. She has had a lot on her plate recently, and that's not even taking into account her_ personal relationships_," Rupert stressed the last few words. "I should have seen it."

"No, blaming yourself will do her no good. You have to decide who to send with her, do you have a preference?"

"No, no Joseph. You decide. You know more about security than I. Besides you care as much as I do. Maybe you should send two or three however." Joseph nodded, affirming the idea.

"This will give me time to finish the cottage," Joseph spit out, unable to believe he had just thought of it. "She'll not be here to question my whereabouts all the time."

"Indeed," Rupert nodded, half laughing. "She's not one to try and sneak around on. I know that for a fact. By the way, Joseph, how is it coming along?" Rupert led them down the staircase, trying to hide his worry over his wife from Joseph.

"Just fine, a little slower than I had hoped, but now that I can work without worrying where she is, it should be finished by this winter."

"Good, good. A fine Christmas present, then?" Rupert mentioned to Joseph, knowing it would be something that no one else could give Clarisse, and that it would make her very happy. Turning to his King, Joseph could not hide the excitement in his eyes at the thought.

"Yes, yes it would."

0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Please, Clarisse, try and take it easy. There's nothing to worry about, I'll take care of everything here. Call as often as you like, but please use the time to rest." Rupert escorted her out of the main double doors, and down the red carpeted steps. She walked weary, but seemed to be in good spirits otherwise.

"Promise me something Rupert." Clarisse stopped them mid-step.

"Yes?"

"Promise me that if you need me, really need me, you'll let me know?" She knew that there were times when the King could not do without a Queen, and she had promised him that she would be his Queen, and a damn good one at that. It was a promise she didn't want to break, and one she needed to keep for herself.

"Clarisse, I could never have had a better wife and Queen than you. I am truly blessed, and yes, I promise you. If I need you, I will let you know. Otherwise, my dear, I am not to see you until the Fall, maybe?" Rupert raised his brow at her, hoping she would take as long as she needed. He would not call, that he was certain of, unless an emergency presented itself. Otherwise, he planned on being on his own. He was a grown man, and a King, surely he could manage for a season or two alone. Besides, Rupert knew that she needed this time more than anything.

"That sounds like such a very long time."

"It'll go by faster than it seems. Take care, Clarisse." Rupert kissed her gently on her cheek, and again took her arm to escort her down the steps to the awaiting limo.

Sitting on the seat, she finally let go of Rupert's hand. She watched him back away as the door was being closed. Clarisse held out her hand, stopping the door before it shut.

"Rupert?"

"What's the matter, darling?" Clarisse motioned for him to come close, needing to speak privately to him.

"Where's Joseph? He promised he'd be here." She looked around, making sure she had not missed him.

"You'll not miss him, trust me." Rupert nodded to her, amusing himself with the confused look on her face. "Trust me," he assured her again as the door closed between them.

0o0o0o0o0o

By the time the limo had pulled up beside Genovia one, Clarisse did not know whether to fume with anger or break down and cry. He had not seen her off, as he said he would just this morning in her room. She had looked and looked, seeing masses of faces as the limo drove the streets of the city, but no Joseph. The only time she saw his face was in her mind.

Beginning to feel quite ill now, Clarisse boarded the jet, and took her regular seat. Josephine put away their in-fight baggage, and made sure her Queen was comfortable and ready for take off. She couldn't help but notice Clarisse's flushed face and red eyes.

"Your Majesty?"

"Oh, I'm fine Josephine. Just finding it hard to leave for so long." She had told her the truth, after all it did upset her very much. She just left out a most important part.

"Very well. If you need anything..."  
"I know, thank you." Clarisse watched the terminal begin to slowly outside her window. It was a sight she had watched many times before. This time it seemed different.

"Oh, Your Majesty! I almost forgot.." Josephine reached over the seat in front of her, handing her Queen a sealed envelope. "I was asked to give this to you once we boarded."

Clarisse took the pale envelope, sliding her nail under the seal to open it. Noticing the signature at the bottom first, her spirits automatically lifted, bringing a sigh of relief from her heart. He didn't forget her. He had wanted to be there. She composed herself, and began reading.

_Clarisse_

_The pilot has been given instructions to fly over a large field near the palace before it heads north. It is there I will see you, and say what I must. I could never just let you leave, my love. I will be counting the days until you return to me. Please rest, make yourself well again. I cannot live without you now. You are my life._

_There was something I wanted to give you tonight. Since you cannot be here, then I have sent it with you. Look in your right jacket pocket. This belongs to you now, with my heart._

_Joseph_

Clarisse dug in her pocket, wondering how and when he had slipped something in there. She pulled out a small black box, very befitting of Joseph, she thought. Making sure no one was looking, she opened it, revealing a pearled cameo. She picked it up, watching the chain follow out of the box. Smiling to herself, she placed it around her neck.

It was then she noticed the small note in the bottom. Picking it up, she read on.

_C_

_This was my grandmothers, then my mothers; all the women who have held my heart. Now it belongs to you, and only you. My love always, J_

The slight banking of the jet brought to mind the first note. Clarisse looked out the window, spying the palace and its breathtaking view. She scanned the ground, looking for something...anything. How was she going to see him from here?

Again the plane banked, bringing to view the most amazing sight she had ever saw. There on the ground was somehow written in huge lettering, "I LOVE YOU CLARISSE". She almost laughed at the happiness it brought. Yes, she could see it. She knew it was him. Yes, it was him, the small dot at the end of the field moving. It was him. She knew it. The tears that came were full of hope and happiness, and yet somehow still carried an aire of grief and despair. It was then that she realize she could handle it, she could carry both. She wanted to.

She watched until the lettering was long out of sight, and the plane too high to make out anything other than land or sea. If this had to be, then somehow she would make the best of it, until she could be home again with those she loved, and those who loved her.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

When the jet had all but fully disappeared in the blue sky, Joseph sank to the damp earth. Somehow he knew she had seen him, and she was smiling from the sky. Somehow he knew she would be fine. Somehow he felt it had already been an eternity without her. Somehow...somehow he would wait for her. He would keep himself busy, working and laboring for his love.


	17. Chapter 17

Clarisse sat in the drawing room of her penthouse suite in the Ritz, London, staring absently into her tea cup. She had only arrived in the city a few hours ago from France. France had become tiresome, much as had Italy and Spain before it. Now she was in London, preparing to see her boys. The rain splattered off of the thick glass, echoing eerily in the empty room. She couldn't say the trip had been bad, or good, rather she had been indifferent to it. She couldn't deny it had relaxed her but it certainly hadn't eased her mind, or conscience. A month had passed, another month loomed before her and yet she couldn't build up the bravado to face it. Rupert had been right to suggest this time away but it still made her feel useless. Perhaps the worst thing about it was, that out of all of the people she could or should have missed, Joseph was the one who filled her thoughts day and night. A month without him had only thrown her further into needing him. Fresh in her mind, the writing in the field often occupied her thoughts, or his hands running over her body, or his lips on hers, or the gravely scratching of his voice. She knew he couldn't phone her, her calls were monitored, she knew he could not write, her mail was opened for her. She sighed, everything was done for her. The ringing of her phone brought her attention away from her morosely stated mind and back into the real world, where things needed to be attended to.

The voice on the end lightened her considerably, even if it wasn't Joseph.

"Pierre…..yes, three o'clock……mhmm….ok, darling love you too, tell your brother I love him also". She smiled to herself as she stood up, brushing the crumbs of lunch from her suit. The boys were to be picked up at three, supposedly by her security. She had taken it upon herself to hire a sporty little number and give the security the weekend off. She smiled slyly at her own persuasive antics and ingenuity as she picked up her handbag.

Smiling at Josephs' second in command as she stepped into the chilly corridor, she pulled her jacket round herself and headed for the lift. The security man shook his head slightly, he really couldn't get away with the fact she could win him or rule over him so easily, she just done as she pleased. Slumping against the wall, he admired her from behind. She might be a tough bitch, but she sure had a nice figure.

Harrow college looked drab on a dank day as Clarisse drove the red Ferrari up the winding road towards Harrow hill. Boys of breeding poured out of the old oak doors, hats on heads, heading for limos and Bentley's , shuffled along by aggravated teachers and Butlers and Nannies. Clarisse felt terribly strange turning up here, considering all the parents knew precisely who she was. She figured it best to, even in the conditions, slip on sunglasses, trying as best possible to disguise her identity.

Opening the car door, she extended a graceful leg on to the wet gravel and stepped out of the car, shielding herself under a brolly. No sooner had she done so, that an excited cheer rang out of a boy huddled within a group under the doorway. The young boy emerged, strapping in appearance now he had reached thirteen. He carried the air of a boy that was born royally, though his deep eyes told a different story. Dropping his satchel and case in the mud, he ran towards his mother, jumping excitedly into her arms as his brother trailed just as joyfully behind. Reaching her, both boys wrapped strong arms around her waits, hugging her tightly.

"Mamma!", Pierre laughed, grinning at her, " I thought you were sending security!"

"No, no", she smiled, kissing her younger sons head, " My! Philippe, how you have grown in under a month!"

"Mama, you didn't say goodbye when you fell sick! You just went to Spain!", he admonished, tugging on her hand.

" I know darling, I didn't have the time but now I do, I can make it up to you", she said slowly, her face reddening slightly.

The return to the Ritz seemed to take a lot longer than she had planned, as they diverged into Hamley and Harrods. Thanking the doorman and Assistants of Harrods with a generous tip, she stared rather amused into the boot of the car. Footballs, toys, figures, books, clothes……more toys and books. She smiled again and forced the boot shut, laughing at the exhausted figures of her sons, still in their uniforms, slumping against the bonnet of the car.

"Exhausting day, boys?", she inquired sarcastically, motioning them both into the rather strained car. They slumped into the back seat.

" So, where for dinner?", Philippe suddenly burst, energy returning quicker than lightening as they passed a MacDonald's.

"Well", Clarisse laughed, raising an eye brow at the two figures in the back through the rear view mirror, " I suppose if I pulled over now, there would be two very happy boys occupying my car!"

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The next few weeks seemed to fly in the company of the boys. Soon the nights were darkening by four o'clock, snow was drifting into the streets………it told her it was time to go home, and god was she thankful. A year, a year, the words played over in her head. A year since he had first kissed her, well nearly a year. That lodge seemed years away now, years and years ago. Yet, his touch on her was still fresh on her skin, in her mind. She hugged the fur wrap around her tighter as she stood on the snow covered balcony of her room.

She was finding it exceedingly hard without him now that she knew it was only a day until she could see his handsome features, feel his lips on hers. That pang of guilt roped her body but now, as it often did, disappeared quicker than it had come. Smiling at the thought of him, she turned to go inside, back to the welcoming sight of her boys. Pierre was curled up in a seat by the fire, reading. Philippe on the other chair, reading Polo magazines, she often wondered if her youngest son cared for anything else. Chuckling slightly to herself , she closed the double doors behind her and shivered a little.

She wondered what he was doing now, curled up in his leather chair by the security monitors, hugging a hot cup of coffee or something stronger. She sighed again, whishing she could be with him. That was however, selfish. Discarding the thought and reasoning, she bid the rather disgruntled boys to bed and quickly followed, her last thoughts of him, his smile, his skin……….

The plane journey was boring and tedious for her, considering that one of her sons was on Genovia 3, the other on 2 and she on 1. This rule always got to her, why on earth must they insist that those boys be separated. It even more made a point of the fact they were heirs to the throne and callously, nothing more. She sighed and stared blankly at the trace agreement before her, reading but not registering. Her head was on another planet, planet Joseph, she thought wryly. She hoped, slightly, he'd be there on the tarmac to greet them but that was unlikely, according to his security men, he spent half of his free time riding that damn motor bike. She smiled slyly to herself at the thought of him straddling a motor bike in leather, licked her lips, then reminded herself thoughts like that were highly inappropriate. Sighing, she sat back and fell quickly asleep.

Awaking drowsily as the captains voice invaded her sleep, she opened her eyes to find they'd already arrived on the runway of Pyrus airport. The snow had been reverently sloshed back from the runway, embanking highly along the edges. Forcing herself up, she looked out into the window, desperately hoping he'd be there. No, apparently that job had been left to Rupert. Stretching out a little, trying to ignore the disappointment, she gathered her regal bearings and wrapping her coat tightly around herself, exited through the heavy plane door.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Snuggling up next to him, Clarisse realized that she had missed him much more than had ever crossed her mind. The three limos were loaded quickly, and now proceeded to take the royal family home. Clarisse was quite surprised when Rupert had got in the back with her. Seeing as how their sons were split in the other two, it did make sense. He had slid on the smooth leather until their thighs touched, and wrapped his arms around her tightly, placing a soft kiss upon her head.

"I missed you Clarisse. It's been a very long, not to mention boring, Summer and Autumn. Tell me, are you really up to returning now? I mean, I know when we spoke you claimed to be fine, but Clarisse, I need to know. Do you believe you can handle things once again?" His voice was smooth and very much full of concern, that much she knew to be true. He was worried for his country, after all Queens do not grow on pear trees. Clarisse also knew that his concern for her as a woman was genuine. She did not question that any more. What she did question was the answer she would give him.

"I've had so much time on my hands, Rupert. So much to think, and rethink, to the point I believe it did more harm than good sometimes." She twisted to look at his face, watching the warm smile develop as she spoke. "I have come to this conclusion. I promised you that I would be the best Queen I could possibly be, and I very much want to keep that promise to you Rupert. With that also comes the promise that I would be a good wife to you Rupert. I also want to keep that promise. Rupert, you're a dear friend, and I love our children like a mother should. I am with you to stay for the duration, whatever our time together may bring. Genovia is my homeland, and I care so much for our people...I do want this, I want this very much. As for your question, I can only hope that I will be able to. I cannot guarantee an answer for you. There are no guarantees in this life, and you of all people know that Rupert. I just know that I am sure of my life now, and it is what I want."

Silence rang out like the chapel bells on the most holiest of days. Rupert had listened to her, and really heard her for the first time in a very long time. As his head began to nod, he tightened his hold on her.

"Marrying any other would have been a mistake that I and Genovia would have paid for dearly. I am proud of having you, Clarisse. I know your heart does not belong to me, but I am proud that you stand beside me in the light of duty. I've never told you that before, as I've never really listened to you either. This whole mess...it's as much my fault, and I do apologize. Never would I want you ill, Clarisse. You must know that. "

The cars sped through the city, heading toward the outskirts where the royal gates awaited to be opened to them. Clarisse could hardly contain herself any longer. She was ready to come home, and it had been too long. Her eyes took in the surroundings, noticing small changes like never before. She drank up the sights, yet her heart yearned to see him.

"You know, Clarisse, if we are going to really make this a good thing, we have to be honest with one another, and open up to each other," he began, knowing she had Joseph on her mind. "This line has to be crossed, and now is a good time to start." Rupert squeezed her shoulder, trying to support her inhibitions.

"You're right. Both of us need to change. Yes, Joseph is on my mind. I was afraid to say it...afraid you would think that I didn't miss you as well. It's just so complicated to be like this."

"It doesn't have to be. Tell me, Clarisse. Tell me."

"Oh, Rupert. It was so hard, being away from him. He was on my mind all the time. I couldn't escape him. The longer I was away, the more he burned in my soul. I love him, Rupert. I needed him to be on that tarmac...yet he wasn't there?" Clarisse was surprised at how easy the words had flowed, and how relieved her tense body became as she allowed herself to open to her friend.

"Ahh, better. Much better. Now you just have to understand when I need to talk..." Rupert tried the light-hearted approach, but knew it would be more difficult for her. "And you and I, we will run this country TOGETHER. That means both of us take on the responsibility of it all."

"Yes," she nodded, straightening up in her seat as the palace came into sight. Joseph would be there...

"He did want to come, you know...Joseph...he wanted to pick you up, but the press...and all that...well we thought it better that I be there. And, he has a little surprise for you he needed to finish up." Rupert let it slip out. He watched her face as the news hit her.   
"A surprise?"

"Yes, just a ...little one. He'll not be at the palace either, not until later on. I'm sorry. But I promise you, it will be well worth it." Rupert squeezed her hand again, knowing she'd need the support to wait even longer.

Had she really been gone so long that the palace now looked so large and formal to her? It was both, but it had always been home also. Now she saw the formality to it, and it was overwhelming. The suites she had called home for almost two seasons were nothing in comparison. She had missed this...from the grand staircase to the massive crystal chandelier. Raising her eyes, she marvelled at the detail on the ceiling as if it had never before been in her line of sight. In a way, it had not. She was seeing it now in a different light. One she wanted to shine like never before.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

Checking his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time already today, Joseph asked himself the same question he had been asking for an hour now, "I wonder if she has arrived?" It had taken every ounce of his being to not run to her, now or any time during her absence. He was thirsty, needy for to drink from her life-giving body. "There must be a God," he whispered, unsure of how he survived this long without her. Surely he would have withered up and died.

Shower, he needed to shower. The sweat had stained his black shirt, all from the running he had done in the last several hours. Joseph had needed to make the small finishing touches on their hideaway. It needed to be perfect, as perfect as their love for one another.

He still could not believe how it had turned out. It was quite magnificent, and yet nothing about it called out as being royal. It was simple, yet made with the finest of wood. Joseph had taken great care in the craftsmanship, and had even drafted help for the smaller details he was inexperienced in carving. The winding staircase was a masterpiece in itself, as was the mantle over the fireplace. Climbing the stairs, Joseph grinned to himself, knowing she would love it.

Stripping off his shirt as he came through the door of the master bedroom, Joseph halted a second. It had taken him practically all summer to find the bed that was made for them, that screamed out the love and passion that heated between them. The mauve velvet upholstered headboard was large, indented with small shelves and a cantered mirror. The bed itself was low to the floor, and wrapped in the velvet around its circular shape. He could almost picture her lying there, naked, awaiting him to join her.

Bringing himself out of the daydream, Joseph rushed to clean himself up. He still needed to check on a few things, and there had been a small problem in security earlier that needed his attention before he would be free to see her.

0o0o0o0o0o

"It's so wonderful to have a decent cup of tea again," Clarisse stated in-between sips. She sat across from her boys, who rambled constantly about the goings-on that they had missed while at school. Rupert, seated at the head of the table, was engrossed in some kind of report. Yes, things were back to normal, and how she had missed it.

Rupert had heard her, and knew she was staring at him. Not sure if he should interrupt her thoughts of being home, he decided it was called for. "I missed you having tea with me."

A quietness spread over the room as the boys turned their heads in unison. Neither could believe what they had just heard. Their father, the King, had proclaimed to miss their mother. Surely more had gone on than they had already heard about.

Clarisse snickered at the expressions on their faces, and couldn't help but to smile at Rupert. "It looks like your sons are surprised that you missed me."

"They'll get over it," Rupert replied, nodding to boys to excuse themselves if they liked. He glanced at his watch, sitting the papers down. "Clarisse?"

"Yes?"

"The cameo? You've been fiddling with it since you arrived." Clarisse blushed, not realizing that she did it out of habit now. It had kept her close to him while she had been away.

"Yes," she nodded slowly, affirming Rupert's suspicion without admitting anything aloud.

"Hmm, I hope that doesn't mean I cannot..." Rupert cut himself off, not sure whether to finish his sentence aloud.

"Don't be silly, Rupert, you know I love jewellery." Clarisse winked, and went back to sipping her tea. She so enjoyed toying with him.

"I don't know where my head went, I'm sorry dear. In that case, there is a new diamond tiara I had made for my Queen, awaiting to be worn at the next formal function."

"Oh Rupert! Can I see it now?" Clarisse sat her cup down, no longer interested in the tea.

"I'd love for you to see it, however, it can wait. There is something else you will be much more interested in seeing right now. I believe it's about time." Clarisse became silent, and her heart pulsed heavy within her veins. She took a deep breath. "I think you would very much like to take a walk, I know how you missed the gardens this past summer."

"Rupert I do love the gardens, but it is the beginning of winter love, there are no flowers left." Clarisse leaned back in her chair, trying to repress the need for her Joseph.

"Clarisse, go get some fresh air, just for a few minutes..." Rupert was trying to push her. She was home, but the misery in her voice and heart was killing him.

"Clarisse," Rupert eyed his watch and whispered to her. "Darling, I promised to have you there in half an hour...the old willow tree behind the tall hedges, past the lake." She jumped from her chair, looking to Rupert for confirmation of what he was saying. As he nodded, Clarisse took off to her suite to change, eager to finally be able to see him again.

"Dress warmly," Rupert called, sounding like a husband, but feeling more like a jackass as he realized that she would be warm enough.


	19. Chapter 19

Rupert had been right to warn her, it was freezing outside. A thick coating of ice covered the grass, rigid underfoot as she walked across it. The sun was icy in the sky too, giving off a cool warmth, blinding as it was. She walked slowly, however desperate she was to see him. Her heart raced slightly at the thought and she subconsciously picked up the pace of her walking. Definitely, he was still there. Any doubt that had crossed her mind about them was easily dispersed by the little leaps her stomach made. She smiled slightly to herself as she neared the edge of the lake. The weather seemed to add to the serenity of this place. The lake was still, icy as it had turned in the months she had been absent. The lines the boys ice skates had left on the surface entwined on the glacial mirror. She stopped momentarily to take a breath of the wonderful air and tighten her fur wrap.

Joseph watched her from behind the tree, watcher her figure sway as it walked. The curves of her body were suddenly familiar to him again. He wanted to reach her but he decided against it, he would rather watch her for hours unbeknown to her, however unfair that was. He turned as she did, to get a better look at her. First off, she had lost weight. Her hair was darker too and longer. He smiled though, for she was till gorgeous. The want to take her in his arms was almost overpowering. Wringing his hands together, he leaned his back against the frost covered tree and smiled wickedly as he glanced at the roof of his new hideaway over the canopy of the trees.

"You know", he said suddenly, unable to contain himself. She turned around, her face a picture of shock as breath caught in her throat, " You shouldn't wander without security". her face lit up with a beaming smile, and she couldn't get her legs to run fast enough over the frozen earth.

"Joseph!", she squealed, throwing herself into his arms. She tightened them round his neck. Burying her face in his chest, she closed her eyes and breathed his wonderful scent in, " Joseph", she repeated softly.

"hello, love", he whispered, tightening his grip on her and running his fingers over her hair, " it's so good….".

Words failed him and he scolded himself for suddenly feeling more sentimental, he really had missed her.

"So good..?", she questioned, pulling back slightly so she could see his face.

"So good to have you here, with me", he said, laughing slightly as he ran his hand over his cheek, " You are so beautiful".

She smiled, placing a soft kiss on his lips, " Thank you".

"I have something for you", he smiled, taking her hand in his.

"You do?", she asked curiously.

"Yes, something I hope will be to your liking".

"yes, I think it will". she smiled at him again, her eyes getting lost in his.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Open your eyes", he whispered in her ear.

"OH!", she managed, her voice and face full of wonderment, " Joseph…"

The room was spacious, dark and warm in the deep cold of the winter. The fire licked its way up the hearth, the sweet smell of linen and wintry flowers done well to mask the chemical smell of fresh paint.

"This is for me?", she questioned excitedly, turning to him.

"For…us", he smiled, motioning around the room, " There's more, but that's for later…."

"It is?", she questioned, undoing the buttons of her jacket and moving nearer him.

"Yes, it is", he answered quietly, moving closer, " Later, much later".

"I haven't kissed you yet", she commented, " Not properly anyway".

"We shouldn't waste any more…", but he was abruptly stopped by her lips covering his hungrily, her hands working wonders on the zip of his jacket then the buttons on his shirt. She pulled away, smiling as she ran her hands over the rippled muscles on his chest.

"I missed you so badly", she murmured, kissing his neck.

"I….", he was unable to form words, unable to think coherently, " Don't stop".

She smiled slightly, pulling him forward as she fell back onto the sofa, her lips coming into burning contact with his again.

" I won't", she managed, leaning back.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

She smiled across at him from where she lay, sprawled in the bed of one of the upstairs room. How they had got there, she didn't know. But she was glad to be there, however much her mind was being overly active.

"Stop looking at me", he commanded, his eyes remaining firmly shut as a cheeky grin flitted across his face.

"When do I go back?", she suddenly questioned. The abruptness of her question caused him to open his eyes, becoming more alert all of a sudden.

"go back where?".

"The palace", she said absently, staring out of the window.

"Tomorrow, I suppose", he answered, reaching over to touch lace her fingers with his, " I asked Rupert-"

"What if", she interrupted, turning to him, " What if I never go back?"

He stopped for a long moment, staring into her eyes. Realising she was serious, he dreaded to think what was going through her mind. He couldn't answer her, but she squeezed his hand roughly, her eyes never leaving his face.

"I mean it, what if…?", she trailed off, turning her face away from his, " This is killing me".

"What?"

"Joseph, I love you!", she suddenly cried, the distress evident in her voice, " I want more than this, I don't want to have a sordid affair in a little hide away".

"But Clarisse, your boys, Rupert, your duty", he pleaded, sitting up along with her and gripping her back as she fell against his chest, " Listen to me, you can't!"

She shook against him, banging her fist on the mattress.

"I know! But I wish, I wish….", she trailed off, her voice breaking through tears, " I thought when I got back it would be better, that we'd be ok, that we could live like this."

"That's why I repaired this place-", he said defensively, not letting her go.

"I know", she stated quickly, " But I hoped I could deal with it, that all of this was all I'd ever need but it's not. I want to be with you".

"And I with you but it's imp-"

"Please Joseph, please don't say it's impossible. I wont to think there's some hope".

"I- but- there is, not for a long time but maybe some day", he said calmingly.

"I don't know if I can last that long….."she answered, turning over to face him with a tear streaked face, " I have to but Joseph…."

"Darling, don't cry, please", he said helplessly, " Don't,. not over us, not over me".

"I love you", she whispered, gripping his skin and digging her nails into his shoulders.

"I love you too", he whispered, " But Clarisse, You cannot and you must not ask me, I wouldn't shame you like that".

"I wouldn't be ashamed".

"I would", he answered honestly, " I love you darling, with all my heart. But we would regret it, you know that".

She nodded, gripping him tighter. It had been so tempting and in all honesty, something she would have done with little coaxing. She would have ran with him, leaving it all behind them. They could have flown away, into the dark of night. But she wouldn't ever, if only for the love of her boys. She would stay here for years to come, waiting with him, wanting him with every fibre of her body. It was all duty, all of how she was underneath was him- something that would never be free. Her name would always be Renaldi, she would always be Queen. She would never be his, only hope told her she would.

She would not disappear with him, she would not transform into a bird and fly away. She would not disappear into the dark of the night…… in the winter.


End file.
